Authors: Theresa Meyers
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal
The Slayer (15 page)
Winchester's face broke into a smile, and he tipped his hat back. “Well, that ain't so hard. Seems like a pretty direct trip, especially with your airship and all.”
Alexa speared him with a hard glance. “Mr. Jackson, I am aware that you know very little about how things are done here, but let me assure you a trip to Brittany is anything but simple for us vampires. Within the border of France we are hunted ruthlessly, just as we are in your country.”
“You mean to tell me there are no Darkin in France?”
“No. Yes. Of course there are Darkin in France. There are Darkin everywhere! But they do not venture out into society as we do here.”
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A foul whiff of sulfur tweaked Winn's nose as a curl of dark smoke swirled beside the contessa, turning into one of the uniformed guards from the throne room. Winn jumped back, a little unsettled by the sudden appearance of the vampire. Didn't they get tired of poofing from place to place all the time?
“Lady Drossenburg!” The guard clicked his heels together and bowed.
“What is it?”
“An attack on the castle. His Imperial Majesty has instructed you to leave with the American immediately.”
“An attack? That's absurd!”
The guard scowled, his expression of utmost seriousness. “Things have changed for the worse while you've been away, my lady. The villagers have been convinced by the Hunters and the church that the end of the world is coming unless we are eliminated. They've been told we hold a key to preventing the end of the world.”
“Of course. Make the vampires the scapegoats for the end of the world. Never mind the other Darkin in their midst,” Alexa muttered. Their logic was twisted and completely irrational. Darkin were threatening them. But there was no time to educate them as to why the vampires weren't the same as all the other “monsters” they sought to eradicate, nor to explain that they no longer possessed the piece of the Book.
“They've become increasingly unsettled in the past month, but until now it's only been minor skirmishes. Until they burned Kostick last week.”
Her face warped slightly, brows protruding outward as they had when she'd killed Hoss's gang. The taint of sulfur in the air grew stronger. Alexa's hands curled into tight fists at her sides as the tips of her fangs peeped over her bottom lip. Winn backed up a pace at the rapid change in her. “This is intolerable,” she growled.
The messenger bowed his head slightly. “My lady, if we wish to spare the Chosen, we must get him out of here now.”
She whipped around to face the messenger. Her fists released, her brow smoothed out again, and her fangs retracted. “Of course.” She locked her gaze on Winn, all her composure regained. “Come, Mr. Jackson. We have our destination.”
Chapter 12
They didn't make it past the throne room before the sound of the wooden gates in the outer bailey being split open by the tumultuous mob reached them. The roar of the mob grew louder as Winn and the contessa raced across the polished marble floor to the battlement tower steps.
“Sounds like a mighty large crowd,” Winn muttered, grabbing her arm as her shoe caught in the uneven stones and she stumbled.
She shot him a grateful glance, then frowned. “I don't understand. We haven't been attacked like this in over two hundred years. The Hunters must have whipped them into a proper fury.” Panicked vampires filled the lofty chamber outside the throne room in a confused mass, their shouts and cries echoing into a frenzied noise. They pushed and shoved at each other, trying to get enough room to dematerialize. So many of them did all at once that a thick, black, smoky haze filled the air. Winn had never seen anything like it.
“If Rathe has his way and opens the Gates, we're all going to suffer,” Winn muttered darkly.
A startled gasp escaped her at the scraping, crunching noises on the doors. Then came a solid
BOOM
that echoed through the chamber, rattling the crystal in the chandeliers overhead. “Oh gods! The villagers are right outside the door, and they're using a battering ram.” Fear and anger spilled over into her voice. “Run!” Alexa yelled, tugging at the edge of his duster.
BOOM
that echoed through the chamber, rattling the crystal in the chandeliers overhead. “Oh gods! The villagers are right outside the door, and they're using a battering ram.” Fear and anger spilled over into her voice. “Run!” Alexa yelled, tugging at the edge of his duster.
Her mouth pulled into a determined line as she hiked up her voluminous skirts and started to sprint for the stone staircase leading up the edge of the room to the battlement tower. Winn was right on her heels. The way her bustle thrashed about, he was hoping it wasn't going to tear off and cause him to stumble. They were halfway up the stairs when the large doors leading into the great hall burst open with a resounding crash. A flood of angry villagers armed with rush torches, burning slabs of wood, and farm implements poured inside. They stabbed at any vampire they could reach.
Screams pierced the air and mixed with hisses and growls as vampires fought back, their faces warping into fearsome visages with crimson eyes and protruding brows. Dark, slick vampire blood spilled across the floor, swirling with the red blood of villagers who were having their throats ripped open. Winn fought against his ingrained instincts to turn back and join in the fray. He hesitated a step, torn. Duty burned deep, but intellect reined it in.
“Come on!” Alexa urged as she grabbed his hand. “Nothing can stop them now. We must get to the ship!” They increased their speed, taking the ancient, worn stone stairs two at a time, arms and legs pumping hard. Alexa glanced down at the fray below. “Insufferable villagers. They would have died out without us. And this is how they repay us?”
“This ain't the time to reason with them. Move!”
“We saved them from starvation many times. Vlad has always seen to their safety and protection.”
“Yeah, I can see why you'd want to protect your livestock,” he grumbled. “You callin' His Imperial Majesty Vlad now?”
She glanced over her shoulder as they exited through the large, arched stone doorway to the narrow battlement walkway that topped the walls. “He's my cousin. Before I called him Your Imperial Majesty, I called him Vlad.”
Between the large stone crenellations, Winn caught a glimpse of more angry villagers filling the road below. A shot pinged, and some chips of stone flew off one of the crenellations by him. Damn. They even had guns.
“You better hope he made it out too. You best get movin'.”
Focused, shoulders pulled back and stiff, she marched across the battlements toward the ladder they'd used to descend from the airship. “You go first,” she ordered.
Winn speared her with a glare. “Not damn likely. Get going if you want to make it off this rock in one piece. You need to tell the captain where we've got to go next.”
“Fine.” She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and started quickly climbing the wooden rungs. He hustled her up the rope ladder, coming up behind her in such a hurry that his hands brushed her ankles as he climbed. She glared at him. “This is hardly the time.”
“It was an accident,” he growled, pissed off that she thought of him as unable to control or focus himself. He'd been hunting long enough to know how to be professional when the situation demanded it, and had manners enough to carry him through when the situation didn't demand it.
Winn was halfway up when the airship began to move, making the ladder sway dangerously close to the tall, slate-topped tower of the castle. A shot zipped past him and splintered the bottom of the gondola directly over their heads. Winn felt the heat as another shot grazed past his ear. He shifted his hold, wrapping the rope of the ladder around his left arm and swinging the crossbow from his back to his right hand. The thing was a damn sight heavier when he had to hold it single-handed, but he wanted to be ready to shoot if necessary.
The ship rose quickly, which was a damn good thing. The mob had spilled out onto the battlements and were shooting and throwing whatever they could at the ship. Handheld sickles, stones, even shoes were thrown at them. Winn fired off a shot at the man with the rifle, winging him in the shoulder. He didn't want to kill the idiot, simply keep himself from getting shot.
The wind, moist and cool, buffeted him, making his duster flap loudly. The castle grew smaller. Far below, the mob, piled onto the road leading to the front gates, looked like a seething mass of ants, all with little lights strapped to them, clambering over one another to enter the castle.
Winn glanced up. It was still a long climb, and his hands were aching and growing numb in the cold. The slap of his duster around his legs obscured the sound of the wind blowing around his precarious perch on the wildly swinging ladder. His hair blew across his face and stung his skin. For a moment the contessa's billowing skirts and petticoats obscured his vision. But his handhold and footing were sure, and Winn didn't waste any time. He kept climbing as fast as Alexa's progress above him allowed.
Did she have the strength to hold on as they moved through the air at a dizzying speed? Hell, yes. She was a vampire. She was probably stronger than he was physically. “Can you go any faster?” he yelled into the wind, then spat a froth of white petticoat from his mouth.
“Just keep up,” she called back to him. Why the hell had she stayed with him in the castle and why was she climbing with him now? At any time she could have just zapped herself back to the decks of the dirigible in a cloud of smoke and left him to catch up. Then a thought hit him square between the eyes.
All this time he'd thought he'd been protecting her back, but maybe she'd really been sticking to him like pitch because she thought
she
needed to protect
him
. Annoyance crackled along his nerves. He was a trained Hunter, perfectly capable of taking care of his damn self.
she
needed to protect
him
. Annoyance crackled along his nerves. He was a trained Hunter, perfectly capable of taking care of his damn self.
The airship flew over the mountain, and he assumed they were headed west toward France. Maybe they weren't. It wasn't as if there were map lines drawn across the landscape. It all looked like mist-shrouded forests and spectacular snow-capped mountains to him. His scarred thigh throbbed with every beat of his heart as he climbed. Her skirts disappeared over the edge of the gondola's deck just about the time the clouds gave up being congenial and opened up, spitting rain. By the time he reached the deck he was soaked to the skin and as annoyed as a wet cat.
Or perhaps the weather had little to do with his annoyance. She didn't need him, and it stung. The contessa wasn't the “weaker sex.” She wasn't weaker at
anything
. It was hard for Winn to accept that she wasn't the damsel in distress so much as a mistress of her domain. He wasn't sure just how to deal with a woman who didn't need him.
anything
. It was hard for Winn to accept that she wasn't the damsel in distress so much as a mistress of her domain. He wasn't sure just how to deal with a woman who didn't need him.
He let out a groan as he hoisted himself up on the deck, exhausted and chilled to the marrow of his bones. The contessa was waiting for him with a thick Turkish towel. “Does trouble follow you everywhere?” she asked loudly over the beating rain and howling wind as she wrapped it about his shoulders.
“This ain't nothing, Tessa,” Winn said between chattering teeth as he followed her through the stained glass double doors into the observation deck. “You should see my little brother, Colt, in action.” He used the corner of the soft towel to wipe his face. The cessation of the wind made his ears ring, and the warmth of the room, with its leaping fire in the hearth, made his wet skin tingle. The smell of jasmine was heavy and decadent and intensified by the sudden heat after the chill of their climb.
She seemed oblivious to the wet fabric of her gown clinging to her equally wet skin. Her smart chignon had escaped most of its anchors, and her dark hair tumbled in glossy, wet ringlets about her back and chest and clung to her pale skin. She looked magnificent. Alluring. Vulnerable.
Winn reminded himself that this was not a woman who would be, or could be, vulnerable. She was a vampire. An old and strong vampire. But for the fact that she needed his skills, he would already have been a snack for her.
Her lips curved into a small smile as she looked up at him. Could she read what he was thinking? He hoped to hell not.
“The youngest of the Chosen.” It was a statement. She knew who they were. Knew their history. Knew why they'd been put on this earth. Or at least she thought she did, listening to that half-crisped madman in the dungeon.
Winn removed his dripping hat and rubbed the towel over his head. “Yeah. If you believe in that sort of thing.” He might not like it, but facts were facts.
“You don't believe in the prophecy?”
Winn shrugged. “All I know about the whole thing is somebody way back when said three brothers from the Legion of Hunters would save the world, and I ain't positive it's us.”
“Well, you met Kostick, the vampire who made the prophecy.”
Winn grunted and shook his head. “Yeah, well, after having met him, I've got even less confidence in his predictions.”
He walked over to the marble fireplace and stood by the blue flames, resting his forearm on the mantel and gazing into the flickering light as if he could somehow divine his future in its ever-shifting depths.
“Here. Drink this; it'll warm you up.” She offered him a fine, bone china, gold-rimmed cup on a fragile saucer. Swirls of steam rose from the fragrant tea. Seeing delicate china in his large, rough hands made him feel clumsy as a newborn colt as the cup rattled on the translucent saucer.
He eyed the brew dubiously. “What's in it?”
She raised a dark brow. “Tea with lemon and honey. Now drink.”
Winn sniffed it just to be sure, and smelling nothing off, took a tentative sip. The hot, sweet/tart liquid raced a burning path down his throat straight to his belly. Instantly the warmth radiated out to his limbs and he felt better.
Water was still dripping in a steady rhythm from the rim of his Stetson. He tossed the hat onto a nearby marble-topped coffee table to dry out. “That hat ain't never going to be the same,” he muttered into his cup, then took another fortifying sip.
He slid a glance in her direction. She looked disheveled but not soaked through like him. “Don't suppose you have any whisky I could add to spice this up a mite?”
Her generous lips curved up into a smile. “Would vodka work?”
“I can give it a try.”
“I hope Vlad escaped,” she murmured as she materialized a flask and poured some into his teacup.
Winn fixed his gaze on her until she looked up at him. Her eyes were a swirl of gold and pale browns. “You're worried about him, aren't you?” His chest tightened waiting for her response.
She lifted one dainty shoulder in a half shrug. “He
is
our leader and my cousin; of course I'm worried about him.”
is
our leader and my cousin; of course I'm worried about him.”
They both knew it wasn't what he'd meant by the question. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but it wasn't the proper thing to do. “I'm sure he's fine,” he said, his voice huskier with emotion than he intended.
An earsplitting crack of thunder tore through the sky as a streak of white-hot light nearly blinded them. Winn almost dropped the china cup and saucer in surprise when the contessa bumped into him, her hands gripping his shirt. The sound rattled the airship, but it was the contessa who rattled Winn's insides. Maybe going through the monsoon had shaken her confidence in the airship's capability to fly during a lightning storm.
“That was close. Too close,” she murmured. She gazed up at him and, realizing how she clung to him, abruptly removed her hands and smoothed her skirts. “We must have flown into the oncoming storm. I'll check with the captain to see if we can skirt around it.”
A storm was certainly coming, Winn thought, and it had nothing to do with the atmosphere outside. Sooner or later he was going to have to confront the fact that she stirred him in ways that just weren't right. Not for a Hunter, at least. But for the moment he shoved the thoughts back down into the deep recesses of his mind where they belonged. He had an important job to do, and that was all he could be focused on.
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