Duncan (36 page)

“Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll do what we can from out here, but the liability is yours, lady. And you keep those damn amateurs of yours away from my fire.” He stormed off without waiting for her reply, and Emma blew out a long, relieved breath.

“Nicely done, Emma,” Hissong said in her ear. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Bullshit,” she said succinctly. “You know nothing about me. What time is it?”

“Ten minutes until sunset. Let’s get you out of the spotlight, yes?”

“Yes,” Emma agreed, suddenly feeling shaky. Her confrontation with Stavros had let her forget exactly what was at stake here. But now all she could think about was Duncan and whether he was still alive, or, even worse, whether he would wake at sunset to find himself and his vampires trapped in a prison of fire.

She let Hissong take her arm again, aware of Marlon on her other side as they hurried her around to the back of the residence. It was quieter back here, with the main part of the fire seeming to be concentrated on the front of the building. But there were firefighters here, too, and Emma could see the ominous orange glow of flames dancing in the many windows. The whole house would go up before long.

Emma coughed as the fire surged from an upstairs window, blowing smoke and greasy soot right into her face. Hissong moved to shelter her from the worst of it.

“Come on,” he said, “the garages are clear. We can get you away from all of this.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Marlon who hurried ahead.

“Have they shared any information with you about how this got started?” she asked as they detoured around the soaking wet piles of construction material.

“The fire department? No, it’s too soon for their investigation. But I don’t need them, I know what happened.”

Emma dug in her heels, forcing him to stop. “You do? How?”

“This entire estate, including the residence inside and out, is on video surveillance during the day. The man who started the fire is already in custody.”

“The police have him?”

“Not the police, Emma. As you pointed out to Stavros, this estate is vampire territory. You may have been bluffing with our local fire captain, but as far as the vampires are concerned, this is vampire business, not human. Lord Duncan will do the questioning and no one else.”

“What if . . .” She swallowed, reluctant to say the words. “What if Duncan . . . can’t do it?” she finally managed, staring up at Hissong.

“Then God save us all, because Lord Raphael will be out for blood.”

“Raphael? You mean Duncan’s Sire?”

“The very same. Come on, Marlon’s got the garage open.”

Marlon stood at the open side door waiting for them. “Should I hit the lights, Jackson?” he asked.

“No,” Emma said quickly. She didn’t know what would happen when the sun set, but if it was bad, if the worst happened, she didn’t want her grief spotlighted for everyone to see. “I don’t want to call any attention to us or to what we’re waiting for.”

“Right,” Hissong said.

They stopped a few feet inside the door, leaving it open. Emma could smell the fire, a scorched, acrid scent that stung her sinuses and made her eyes water. She knew her face must be coated with black, that her hair must be greasy and gray with ash. No wonder Stavros had doubted her credentials. She probably would have too.

With a rumble of sound, the ground shook beneath her feet. Emma froze, staring at the burning house. All around her conversation ceased. Despite the steady roar of the equipment, the absence of voices was as palpable as if the night had been perfectly still. And then the house itself shivered.

“What is that?” Emma whispered, more to herself than anyone else, but Jackson Hissong was at her ear.

“You ever see a really powerful vampire get angry, Emma?” She shook her head silently. “Well, you’re about to,” he added.

“It’s coming down!” someone shouted. And then everyone was yelling again, rushing to pull back personnel and equipment for fear the house was about to collapse.

Emma watched it all with growing distance, feeling like a spectator at a play, as if this was all unreal. There was a mounting pressure on her brain, a presence that she couldn’t quite touch, as if she only needed to open a door and there would be . . . Duncan?

* * * *

The sun hovered over the horizon, moments from dropping below the edge. Duncan raged, trapped in his mind as his power stirred, coiling with him, straining to get out, building like an explosion that would take down the house and everyone around it. The very air trembled, the ground shaking, the ancient timbers of the house creaking ominously. He fought for the control that had always come so naturally for him. But this fury was far greater than any he’d ever felt, his power aching to break free and avenge the wrong done to him and his people, to . . . Emma.

The thought of her banked the hunger of his power. It withdrew, curling deep inside, waiting. He had to remain calm. He needed information. Where was Emma? Had she been here when the fire hit? Was she lying injured, dying, while the humans fought the blaze, not knowing she was inside? He let his mind roam free, his thoughts searching outward. His vampires slept all around him, some already beginning to gain awareness, others too young to wake while the sun still hung in the sky.

He searched farther, beyond the confines of the dreary basement beneath the east wing, where he and his vampires had slept since moving into this unsuitable, old house. He found nothing but fire. Its heat surrounded them, greedy flames eating up the timbers like a ravening beast, drawing ever closer, threatening the primitive sleeping quarters Alaric had thrown together as a temporary measure. There were humans all around. Duncan could feel their presence too, far too many for just his daytime security. Their emotions—fear, excitement, curiosity—bombarded him, making it difficult to weed out any one person, to determine how bad it was. A strong mind flashed through his awareness and he grabbed onto it. This one was energized, rather than excited, and determined. A man of some authority, although it was impossible to say whether he was one of the firefighters or a policeman, or maybe even a powerful neighbor watching from the street. Whichever it was, Duncan slipped his own consciousness into the human’s brain, weaving the two seamlessly until he could look up and see—

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the damage to the house, the fire still raging around what must have been the focal point of an explosion—his bedroom, the bedroom where Emma slept. His power roared back and it had only one goal.

“
Emma!
”

* * * *

“Duncan?” Emma whispered. She whipped her head in the direction of the house.

“What is it?” Hissong asked intently.

“I don’t know. I thought I heard—”

“What?”

“Duncan’s voice . . . in my head. He called my name. It doesn’t make any sense, but—”

“It makes perfect sense. Where did the voice seem to come from?”

“Be quiet!” she snapped, and then more quietly, “I’m sorry. Let me concentrate.” Emma felt foolish. Duncan had told her he couldn’t read her thoughts, but he’d also said that the more they exchanged blood, the closer their minds would come. And Emma liked to bite. She’d taken a little of his blood every time they made love. Was it possible?

“
Duncan?”
she whispered in her mind, and then she shouted,
“DUNCAN!”

“
Emmaline,”
his voice came back to her, warm with feeling and as strong as if he were standing next to her. But then it faded, and Emma doubted for a moment that she’d heard anything at all. Until she felt a surge of emotion that
tasted
like Duncan. It surrounded her—calm and strong, just like he was. Emma closed her eyes against a wave of relief, leaning against the open door for support.

“Well?” Hissong demanded.

“He’s alive. They’re all alive, I think.”

“Fuck me,” Hissong swore. “We’ve got to—” He looked up, eyes narrowing as he stared in the direction of the house. Emma stepped far enough out of the doorway to see what had drawn his attention, her heart leaping at the possibility. But it was only a group of unfamiliar men storming across the backyard and heading directly for the three of them in the shelter of the garage.

“You,” the first man called. “Hissong, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said, stepping out into the yard. “Alaric?” he said, clearly recognizing the man.

Emma blinked as the vampire contractor she’d seen around the house strode closer. They’d never been introduced, but she’d heard Duncan on the phone with him.

“Where’s Duncan?” Alaric demanded.

“That’s my question for you,” Jackson replied. “They’re alive in there somewhere, but I don’t know where—”

“Basement of the east wing, but nothing’s finished, and I got a good look at that blaze on the way here. The main section’s fully engulfed, and the whole place is gonna burn.” He swore viciously and stared into the distance, thinking. “All right. Best we can do is try to make it easier for Duncan. Come on, lads,” he called and started across the backyard. “You, too, Hissong, and anyone else you can spare. We’ve got some digging to do.”

* * * *

The sun finally surrendered, dropping below the horizon and freeing Duncan to act. He opened his eyes and immediately woke his vampires with a blast of power, pulling even the youngest of them out of sleep and into complete wakefulness. The fire was all around them, the main part of the house completely impassable, but even the east wing above their heads was burning now, the ancient timbers growing hotter by the minute. With a loud crack, a piece of the ceiling gave way and a tongue of flame dipped hungrily into the basement. Duncan swore as one of his vampires cried out.

“Everyone to me,” he shouted, putting enough power into the words to make it a command. The room was abruptly hotter, as if that small break in the ceiling brought the full heat of the blaze along with it. He was drenched in sweat, his hair, his clothes, and as he looked around, he could see all of his vampires were in the same condition. They gathered around him, their emotions a battering ram of fear and tension pounding at the wall of his control. They were looking to him to save them, to come up with a plan to get them out of here in one piece.

“Miguel?”

“Yes, my lord,” Miguel said, appearing at his side.

“We’re taking the tunnel.”

“Sire? It’s not finished yet. There’s nothing there but—”

“Trust me, Miguel. Let’s go.”

“Yes, my—” The rest of Miguel’s words were buried under the crash of burning timbers as the entire floor above them gave way.

“Now!” His power thundered forth, holding the collapsing floor at bay while his vampires ran for the tunnel. He glanced after them long enough to be certain everyone was safe, his power casting the bronze glow of his eyes into the shadows to rival the flames themselves.

Once the last of his people was safely past, he released the burning timbers, using his vampire speed to escape as the first floor crashed into the basement. Following his vampires, Duncan sped for the minimal safety of Alaric’s unfinished vault. It was a new construction, concealed beneath the backyard and reached via a tunnel from the residence. If completed, there would have been a reinforced door connected to the basement of the east wing, and another equally secure door to the vault itself. It would have been expansive, with enough room for every vampire to have his or her own small chamber.

But that had all been for the future. Alaric had finished the tunnel and the concrete enclosure for the vault, but it was still just a big box in the ground. And with the east wing burning and the electricity off, it was a big box with no exit and no air.

Duncan led his people toward the tunnel entrance, their way lit by the blaze itself. He dodged aside as another section of floor gave way, the fire licking toward them eagerly, the smoke choking and black. He stopped beneath the break, using a second push of power to blow the flames back as his vampires hustled forward. Miguel led them, but Louis stood with Duncan and willingly offered his power to augment that of his Sire. Duncan rested a hand on the shorter vampire’s shoulder.

“In good time, Louis. This isn’t over yet.”

Louis nodded, his eyes on the vamps filing by, until everyone was past and he and Duncan took up the rear. Up ahead, the first of his vampires reached the reinforced hole in the wall where the tunnel entrance would have been. It already bore the heavy framework of support for the planned vault-style door. The relief of his vampires was a fresh breeze in his mind as they crossed into the relative safety of the tunnel.

It was dark inside, and cold. They were ten feet underground and Duncan could feel the damp earth in his bones as surely as if it were pressing into his pores instead of held back by two solid feet of concrete. Alaric had insisted on the extra thickness of the walls, reminding Duncan that Washington, D.C. was built on a swamp and that meant seeping water everywhere. But right now that extra thickness was one more barrier between his vampires and safety.

* * * *

Emma watched blankly as Alaric and his vampires began digging. She didn’t know exactly why they were digging, except that Alaric had told her it would help Duncan and his vamps get out of the burning house. She’d frowned at his explanation, but was willing to do whatever it took to save Duncan, so she’d offered to help dig. Alaric had laughed and assured her his people could do it far faster. Casting about for something to do besides stare helplessly, she’d found a supply of bottled water in the garage and hauled it out to the yard. Everyone seemed to appreciate that, even the vampires, but there was only so much water one could drink. So, now she was back to watching and waiting.

Fire Captain Stavros came around eventually, stared at the diggers, then marched over to Emma.

“What the hell are those men doing?” he demanded.

Emma drew herself up and said confidently, “They’re digging a rescue tunnel.”

“A rescue—” Stavros glared at her, then as if a light had gone on over his head, his expression cleared and he said, “Vampires.”