Dark Legend (10 page)

"It's all right, sweetheart. I won't let him touch you. I know everything, all of it, every terrible thing he's done to you. The police will take him away and lock him up so tight he'll never get out again." Once more she used her voice, the pure tones of truth and honesty, so that the girl would not retreat too far when her father entered the room.

Francesca slowly returned to her own body. As always when she healed out of her body, she was drained to the point of exhaustion. She rose with calm, unhurried movements, pushed open the door and beckoned Brice inside. "It's her father. He's committed terrible crimes against this child. Call the police and make certain they come down here at once to arrest him. Ask for Argassy, use my name. Tell him I said it was an emergency."

Brice glanced at Skyler, still in the fetal position, her eyes blank and dull. "If she can't tell them, Francesca…" He trailed off as Francesca's black gaze began to smolder. At times the compassionate healer could look quite intimidating.

"She will not have to testify." It was a decree. Francesca turned away from him.

Brice had one hand on the door when it suddenly crashed open, flinging him backward to fall against the bed. A huge burly bear of a man staggered in, blinking at them with hate-filled eyes. His hands were huge, opening and closing into fists. He barely looked at Brice, clearly dismissing him as an obstacle. His gaze settled on Francesca, whose hand was linked to Skyler's.

"What is this?" he bellowed. "How dare you come into my daughter's room when I said no one was allowed in here. Who are you?"

Francesca lowered her voice until it was as soft and clean as a gentle breeze. "I am this child's advocate. She is very ill, Mr. Thompson, and I want you to leave this room before you distress her further."

Her voice was so compelling, the man actually turned to leave, one hand up to push at the door. Then he spun around shaking his head, a cunning feral hatred gathering in his eyes. "You little bitch, you can't tell me what to do with my own daughter." Deliberately he stalked across the room toward her. Skyler was essential to him, his only way to get his drugs now.

He was good at intimidating others, Francesca admitted. He had perfected his technique with years of practicing on Skyler and her mother. He was an ugly brute of a man with a special need to inflict pain and fear on others. She read him easily, recognized his enjoyment of hurting others—men, children, women, it didn't matter. He needed to do so. Francesca could see Brice making himself very small, cowering in the corner, trying to edge toward the door. If he made it, he could call security and bring help immediately.

Francesca controlled the beating of her heart, knowing Skyler was still clinging to her, still waiting to see if she was true to her word. Francesca sent waves of reassurance, a calm tranquility she didn't actually feel. This man should have walked out the door at her command. He was human and the hidden compulsion in her voice should have been enough to control him, but it hadn't worked. She could handle the situation using other powers and skills, but it was a chancy thing to do with Brice in the room and a legendary vampire somewhere in the city. Lucian would feel the surge of power, know the touch was feminine. It could very well bring instant trouble to the hospital, to her friends as well as to her.

The man stood so close she could see the hair on his chest through his dirty shirt. He smelled of cheap whiskey and rye. The taint of drugs seeped from his pores. She met his gaze with a calm acceptance of his rage. If he struck her, her friends would see to it that he would be locked up for a very long time. And he was going to strike her. The air was thick with tension.

"You bitch. You need a real man to show you how to behave. Your simpering little doctor probably runs to you every time you crook your little finger." Deliberately he cupped his crotch lewdly. "You smell good, lady, and I'll bet your skin is as soft as it looks." He was breathing too fast, already stiff and licking his lips with anticipation. His hand moved to touch her face, to feel if her skin could possibly be as soft as it looked. "Don't!" It was a sharp command. Francesca didn't move. Her eyes blazed at him, glaring with contempt. He was incapable of performing sexually. She knew that much about him.

Vulgarly he spat out a string of swear words even as he swung his fist at her. Francesca stood very still waiting calmly for the blow. Brice yelled at the top of his lungs for security. Only a heartbeat went by, a tiny space of time, but in that space the air in the room thickened to a black malevolence. The door burst inward at the same moment that Thompson's fist connected with flesh.

Gabriel was smiling even as he crushed Thompson's fist in his hand. He had caught it before the brute could strike Francesca. Moving with preternatural speed, he had inserted his body between Francesca's and Thompson's, catching the punch before it could connect with his lifemate's face. Only Gabriel's black eyes seemed alive in his still face. Deep within their depths burned the bright red flame of the demon. It revealed his true nature, that of a predator.

To Brice's astonishment Skyler's father seemed to crumple before Gabriel. Brice read the terror in the man's face and forgot to continue calling for security. He felt fear himself, a mounting surge of adrenaline that refused to abate. Gabriel looked like an avenging angel, a warrior of old, invincible, merciless. He was staring directly into Thompson's eyes. "You do not want to strike Francesca, do you?" The voice was very soft, almost gentle. Although pleasing to the ear, it was all the more frightening because there was no emotion.

Thompson was shaking his head like a child. There was pain etched on his face and Brice could see that Gabriel retained possession of his fist. Gabriel's knuckles weren't white, he didn't look as if he was exerting any pressure at all, yet Thompson's face grew gray and he began a low-pitched moaning that fast rose to a cry. Gabriel bent his dark head to the man and whispered something Brice couldn't hear, but Thompson ceased to weep, managing only a moaning whimper. His eyes remained fixed on Gabriel's face, eyes filled with horror, with sheer terror.

Security burst into the room and immediately Gabriel stepped away from the man, his larger body protectively shielding Francesca's. They took Thompson out into the hall, astonished that he went with them so docilely. There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor and a terrible coughing, then a rattling. Almost at once, a nurse called for Brice, her voice tense. He hurried out to find Thompson lying on the floor, both hands clutching his throat, his face gray as he fought desperately for air, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"What's going on? What happened?" Brice was on his knees beside the man.

"He just started gasping and grabbed his throat. He went a little crazy, acting as if he were wrestling with someone for a minute, almost as if he were being strangled, and then he fell," the security guard blurted out.

Francesca heard the explanation and sat down once again in the chair beside Skyler's bed. "Thank you, Gabriel," she said sincerely. He had no idea how relieved and happy she was at his unexpected arrival.

His hand moved over her silken hair in a slow caress. "You should have known I would never allow anyone to lay a hand on you." His voice was very gentle, almost tender. It gave her an unfamiliar feeling. This was what it felt like to be protected by a male Carpathian. Cherished. She knew Thompson was dead. Gabriel knew everything, all of it, every terrible thing that the beast had done to his daughter. Gabriel had been there, a shadow in her mind all along, monitoring her surroundings as the male of their species often did to insure his lifemate's safety.

He had felt the child's terror, had suffered right along with Francesca every single torment the teen had experienced. He had shared every tear Francesca had shed and the fear she'd felt when Thompson burst into the room. She was oddly grateful not to be alone. At the same time she resented the idea that she liked being protected.

Francesca watched the way Gabriel touched Skyler, his hand so gentle, his voice like a musical instrument. The tenderness of this enormously powerful man put a lump in her throat. "He cannot harm you, little one. Francesca will watch over you and so will I. You are under our joint protection and I give you my word of honor it is for all time. Come back to us, join us."

There was no way to ignore the compulsion in Gabriel's voice. The child stirred, blinked rapidly, made a soft sound of distress. At once Gabriel moved back so that the child would focus on Francesca. Skyler needed a woman. Francesca was all compassion and honesty, goodness and purity. Skyler would see it. Francesca's soul was so beautiful that anyone meeting her could see it shining in her eyes.

Skyler looked up at the ceiling first, shocked that her body didn't feel pain. She remembered the voice of an angel reassuring her, making her promises. A voice she had to listen to, but she was very afraid she had made it up. She turned her head and found her angel. She was beautiful. Every bit as beautiful as any angel Skyler had ever imagined. Her hair was long and flowing, as black as a raven's wing. Her face was that of a Madonna. She had classical bone structure, delicate, almost fragile, so beautiful she took Skyler's breath away. Skyler had not spoken a word in months. It was difficult to find her voice. "Are you real?" Her voice trembled, wobbled, a mere thread of sound.

Francesca felt Gabriel's surge of pride in her and it humbled her that she could receive such high praise from him.
Gabriel. The hunter.
No one had accomplished the things he had in the centuries of his existence. She didn't want to feel warmth at the knowledge that he was so proud of her, but he made her feel as if no one else had her talents, her capabilities. No other woman had survived as she had on her own for so many centuries. And no other woman was so beautiful or so courageous. He made her feel like that in spite of her determination not to let him get to her. He didn't say it, he just resided in her, a merging of minds and souls. She felt it.
We belong together.
Unsaid, but there all the same.

Francesca ignored him, a small smile curving her mouth. "I am very real, sweetheart. I meant every word I said. You have nothing to fear anymore."

Skyler shook her head, her eyes suddenly wild with terror. "They'll give me back to him, they always do, or he just takes me back. I can never get away from him. He finds me. He always finds me."

Gabriel's voice came from behind Francesca. It was tranquil, calm, soothing. "He is gone from this world, little one. Gone for all time. He can never find you or come near you again. He went into cardiac arrest when he was confronted with his sins."

The girl gripped Francesca's hand in hers. "He's really gone? Is this man telling the truth? Where will I go? How will I live?" She was panic-stricken. She knew how to retreat from life and pain and a brutal tyrant. She had no idea how to live in the world. She didn't even know if it was possible.

Francesca stroked back Skyler's hair gently. "There's no need to worry about anything. I have friends who will help us. You will be well taken care of, I promise you. For now, all you have to do is lie here in this room and get well. I'll bring you some clothes and books, maybe a stuffed animal or two. We'll get you some things to make your stay a little less boring. I will come back tomorrow evening and visit with you. We can talk more about what you would like to do with your life and where we'll go from here."

Skyler tightened her grip on Francesca. "Is he really dead?"

"Gabriel would not tell an untruth." Francesca said it very softly but with great conviction. "You need sleep now, child. I will be here tomorrow as promised."

Skyler couldn't quite make herself let go of Francesca's hand. As long as they were physically connected, she believed she was safe. She believed she had a chance at living a normal life. It terrified her to let go of that lifeline. Something about Francesca soothed her, made her believe she actually had a chance. "Don't leave me alone," she whispered, her eyes frankly begging. "I won't be able to make it without you."

Francesca was sagging with weariness. Gabriel circled her shoulders with a strong arm, pulled her beneath his broad shoulder so that she could lean on him. He bent close to Skyler, capturing her gaze with the black intensity of his eyes. "You will sleep, little one, a long, peaceful, healing sleep. When they bring you food, you will be hungry. You will eat what they bring. We will return tomorrow evening and you will have no worries until we are here to help you sort out your life. Go to sleep, Skyler, beautiful, peaceful dreams without fear."

At once the girl's lashes fell and she retreated from the world, this time into a healing sleep, where she'd been sent by the magic in Gabriel's voice. She would dream of angels and beautiful things and a world completely new and exciting to her.

The moment the child was asleep, Gabriel turned his full attention to Francesca. "You must feed, sweetheart." His voice was mesmerizing, filled with concern, infinitely tender. His hands moved up her arms to frame her face. "What you have wrought here is nothing short of a miracle. You know that. A miracle." As he spoke, he was drawing her into the circle of his arms, pressing her face into the warmth of his neck where his pulse beat so strongly.

The lure of it was sharp and tempting. She was exhausted from her energy-draining work. More than that, more than the call of her depleted cells crying out for nourishment, was a new addiction to his taste. He held her so gently, so possessively, so protectively. He was heat and light, safety and companionship. He made her feel complete. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, taking just a moment to rest her head against his shoulder. Her mouth was against his bare skin, the material of his shirt brushing against her cheek. He was so close. His skin. Her skin. His blood surged and flowed, beckoned to her.

"You are so tired, Francesco. Please give me the honor of doing this small thing for you. I will not take it as a surrender. I know your mind. You have not attempted to deceive me in any way. I fed well this night."
His whispered words were a seduction, a temptation; he was a dark sorcerer brushing at her mind like the touch of butterfly wings.