Blood Shadows (9 page)

Because it occurred to each of them at the same time that this was the point where Nachari would have stepped in with his lighthearted humor, had he been there, to tease Marquis relentlessly. Perhaps he would have suggested that Marquis seek professional help; or maybe he would have sought to appease Nathaniel with some off-handed story about some silly command Marquis had given him in the past. One way or another, Nachari would have made light of the whole situation, bonding the brothers together with humor, while smoothing over the rough edges, because that was what he did.

Nachari was the peacemaker.

The calm within the storm.

And he brought the warmth of the sun into their tight-knit family. At times like these, his absence was felt profoundly. And didn’t that just bring Marquis’s domineering protectiveness back into perspective for all of them?

I will be there in five, Marquis
, Nathaniel repeated, piercing the silence. This time, his tone was both acquiescent and respectful.
Be well, Master Warrior
, he added with formality.

And you, Nathaniel,
Marquis responded in kind.

Brothers,
Kagen said in parting.

And then he closed the telepathic connection.

six

Marquis Silivasi sat back in the large leather armchair in the clinic’s waiting room across from the terrified woman and crossed his muscular arms. They had been at it all day: questioning Deanna, digging for information, feeling her out for subtle inconsistencies in her story.

There were none.

She was exactly who she said she was, and her story matched the information Kagen had taken from her mind earlier that day…to a tee. He rubbed his chin lightly with his thumb while measuring the woman for the umpteenth time, categorizing every nuance of her personality—the way she moved, the fluctuations in her voice, the peaks and valleys of her heartbeat…the body language that revealed far more than her words ever could.

Deanna Dubois was an exceptional woman but in an understated way. To begin with, she came from an unusual mixed heritage. Her flawless skin was the color of coffee, heavily loaded with cream, and the splendidly exotic nature of her features spoke of at least three different racial influences: Her heavily-lidded, bluish-gray eyes reminded him of those he had seen on the original Spanish Conquistadors; her imminently straight, sculpted nose and her full, heart-shaped lips spoke of more than one French ancestor; and her long, deep brown tresses, littered with natural brushed-gold highlights, had just enough texture to betray some African-American ancestry as well. Overall, it was a devastating combination—not unusual to find in New Orleans—and Deanna carried it all on her five-foot-ten frame like an international model. If the Celestial deities had tried to match Nachari’s rare good looks with a human female’s, then they had done a stellar job.

But Deanna was more than just an exotic beauty. She was supremely confident, despite the unsettling situation she found herself in, and she had an insightful, clever mind that revealed a great deal of intelligence. She was both articulate and smooth, like one who had been educated in the back alleys of life as well as the stuffy universities. However, she was only twenty-three years old, so much of her astuteness had to be innate. Again, she would be a perfect match for Nachari—if, in fact, she was his
destiny
.

Her blood test had come back positive for traces of Celestial DNA.

And even though the brothers had suspected as much, they had still stared at the results with both shock and awe. After all, randomly testing human women had never been done before; the concept just didn’t make sense. Not only would the sons of Jadon have to sort through millions of women before they found one single match, but the positive result would tell them nothing about whom the human female belonged to—which vampire she was destined to mate. Seeing such results before the Blood Moon’s omen was as astonishing as it was unsettling.

The woman straightened her back and forced an insincere smile. “It’s getting dark outside,” she said, gesturing toward a window. “I really need to get going.”

Marquis sighed and shook his head. “No.”

Kagen leaned forward in his seat and cleared his throat. “I think what my brother means to say is we haven’t sorted through all of this yet; we would appreciate a little more of your time.”

Marquis shrugged impatiently. “I think what I meant was
no
.”

Deanna narrowed her eyes and gave Marquis an angry, albeit frightened, glare. “You can’t keep me here.” She put it as a statement, but the inflection in her voice made it a question.

Marquis didn’t flinch. “We haven’t decided yet…where you will be allowed to go.”

Her face paled, and unconcealed fear washed through her eyes. She looked from one male to other, pleading with her gaze.

Nathaniel licked his lips and shifted languidly in his seat. “Ms. Dubois,” he purred in a faintly seductive tone, though absent of compulsion, “you don’t need to be afraid. We don’t mean you any harm. It’s just”—he paused as if searching for the precise words—“it’s just that Nachari’s well-being is our foremost concern, and you must admit, there is something…unusual…going on here.”

“Unusual?” Deanna said, her mouth falling open.
“Unusual?”
She stood up abruptly. “You guys are scaring the hell out of me!” She turned to face Kagen. “I’m sorry I came to your clinic, and I’m sorry I lied to you to gain access.” She placed the palm of her hand against her diaphragm as if to force herself to calm down. “Obviously, I was little freaked out myself by my drawings…and your brother. But I’ve answered all of your questions. More than once. And you haven’t answered any of mine. So, as far as I’m concerned, we’re not going to get any further tonight.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. And I just want to go back to my cabin and get some rest.”

Marquis started to speak but was quickly cut off by Nathaniel, who held out his hand in a
stop
motion.
Brother,
he said telepathically, so all of them could hear,
we can’t keep her
here
like a hostage. There has been no Blood
Moon to alert our enemies
of her existence; perhaps she will remain more…amenable…to our
desires
if we make her feel more comfortable. Allow her to feel safe
at the least. What harm is there in letting her return to her cabin for this night only? We can place a
hidden
guard on her tail so she goes nowhere.

Kagen shrugged.
I’m okay with that—for tonight,
he qualified.
But eventually, we’re going to have to tell her something.

Marquis waved his hand in dismissal.
At this point, what the human does or does not want is of no consequence to me; what matters is Nachari’s safety and figuring this out.
He rubbed his brow in frustration.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we need a wizard.

Deanna threw her arms up in the air. “What in the hell are you guys doing?” She took several steps back from her chair and shuffled in the direction of the front door. No doubt, she had seen the body language and hand gestures…in the absence of speech.

Kagen stood slowly. “We’re just considering your request,” he said.

Deanna shook her head vigorously. “It’s not a request. This is America, and last I checked, I was free to come and go as I please.” She raised her purse strap on her shoulder and hugged her attaché case to her chest. “So if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m outta here.” Without looking back, she started to walk briskly toward the front door. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest.

Marquis immediately rose to cut her off.

Let her go, Marquis
, Nathaniel said.

Marquis glared at him angrily.

“Call Ramsey,” Nathaniel whispered in a voice so slight only another vampire could hear.
Ask him to meet us at the cabins. The moment she pulls out of the driveway, we will cloak our appearances and follow her while remaining invisible.
He turned in the direction of Nachari’s room.
Kagen, of course, will stay here with
Nachari.

Marquis thought it over. He would never understand why his brothers went out of their way to see to the comfort of humans. Perhaps this Deanna was Nachari’s
destiny
, perhaps she was not; but either way, she had answers they needed in her drawings. What she couldn’t explain—because she honestly didn’t know—perhaps another wizard, or even Napolean himself could discern.

It will be as I say.
Marquis spoke with authority then, making it clear that he was pulling rank as the eldest brother and the most senior Ancient Master Warrior in the room.
She will return to the cabin tonight under the protection of Ramsey and Nathaniel. She will be brought back to the clinic at first light tomorrow to meet with our wizards,
Jankiel and Niko. Until then, the drawings will remain here at the clinic where we can study them. I do not care to waste an entire night waiting for the girl to get her beauty sleep.

As you wish,
Nathaniel responded. And then, flashing a brilliant smile, he called after Deanna. “Ms. Dubois?”

Her back stiffened and she looked over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop walking.

“You will stop walking now,” he said in a low, melodic tone.

She froze in place.

“You will hand me your collection of drawings willingly.”

She blinked several times, glanced down at her attaché case, and held it out to Nathaniel.

He moved at the speed of light, all at once appearing before her, and gently removed the case from her arms. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now go home and get some sleep. And do not think to leave Dark Moon Vale—as you will gladly return to the clinic tomorrow morning.”

Deanna stood before Nathaniel like a statue as his words were absorbed into her consciousness—as his will became her own. She slowly nodded her head and smiled. “So, I’ll see you all in the morning, then?” Her brow creased in confusion.

“That would be perfect,” Nathaniel responded, releasing her from his compulsion.

She gave him a harsh look of suspicion. “Good night,” she clipped. And then she turned and nearly ran to the front door.

Deanna threw open the front door to the clinic and took a deep breath of cool night air, trying to fill her lungs with as much as she could. Trying to return sanity to her befuddled mind.

If someone had told her that her name was Alice and she had just fallen down a rabbit hole—or that she was actually Dorothy from Kansas and finding the Wizard of Oz was her only way back home—she would have believed it without question.

What in the world had she gotten herself into?

She shuddered, thinking of the three predatory men who had kept her in the clinic all day long, hurling question after question, hour after hour, in her direction: When did she first begin to sketch the drawings? What went through her mind when it happened? What was she feeling? Did she dream about the sketches? Had she told anyone what she was doing? How had she found the Dark Moon Vale Clinic? What did the clouds in the pictures mean to her? Whose hands were reaching out of the ground for the mysterious man? What did she feel when she thought about the man lying so lifeless in the hospital bed?

She placed her hands over her ears and fought so hard to stifle a scream that the resulting sound came out as a long, drawn-out moan. She had come to Dark Moon Vale for answers, to convince herself that she wasn’t, in fact, crazy. And now, all she believed was that the whole world was crazy right along with her.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she quickly spun around, fully expecting to see someone standing right behind here. There was no one there. She glanced nervously around the parking lot as she took the stone steps in front of the clinic two at a time, all the while digging for her keys at the bottom of her purse.

A branch broke from the limb of a tree overhead, and she jumped.

She could have sworn she heard a second set of footsteps right beside her.

The heat of another body drifted tangibly around her, and it felt as if her left arm were brushing against an invisible person. She yanked her arm away and accidentally dropped her purse. “Who’s there?” she called, squatting down to gather her now scattered belongings.

In her mind’s eye she could still see the giant, terrifying man—the one who called himself Marquis—scrutinizing her with his penetrating gaze. His eyes were such a dark black that they practically shone blue; and his huge, rock-hard body dwarfed everyone who stood near him, not just in size but in power. In presence. He was like a living, breathing pillar of stone: harsh, unrelenting, and deadly with purpose. There was no give in that man, no soft edges. Like the rest of them, he was ungodly handsome, but there was something harsh and unforgiving in his style. Something that made Deanna want to scream and run…all the way back to New Orleans.