Ghost Soldiers (31 page)

“For what?”

“For touching me. Even after I pulled off the mask.”

Maria took her gaze off the road long enough to raise an eyebrow. “It really wasn't that kind of touch.”

“You understand what I mean. Many people would not have done the same. When the masks come off, one quickly discovers who one's true friends are.” She smiled softly. “It makes me sad I once told Karl to kill you.”

Maria snorted surprised laughter. “You told him more than once, which really hurt my feelings. But enough of this syrup before I gag.” She peered out the windshield to the east, toward the harbor and the dark water. “Let's go get Karl.”

Chapter Thirty-One: Homecoming

Karl looked out on the Boston skyline rising above the black expanse of choppy waves. His hands clenched on the railing, but pain from the silver burns on his palm made him let go again. The pain didn't diminish much, and neither did the agony from his shoulder wound. Both continued to cut and churn like shards of razor blades in a blender. He couldn't remember ever feeling so weak, so drained. He'd used most of his dark energy to try and heal the wounds he'd taken, and he'd given a lot of his vampire blood to Bailey to keep her from attacking the humans on the freighter. If something waited for him on the docks—the Thorn or Cojocaru—he wouldn't pose much of a threat.

Bailey stood beside him, her hands in the pockets of her long white coat, which she continued to wear despite the half-missing sleeve. The sea wind rifled through her short blue hair. “Pretty.”

He gazed at the harbor lights and didn't answer—he didn't think he
could
answer. All words felt trite and hollow. He wanted to be home. Just wanted to see Maria again. This close, the need cut deeper.
No, don't focus on it.
He listened to the rush of wind, the harbor buoys dinging. Another ship churned through the water farther out, a rumbling leviathan far off to port.

The deck below swarmed with crewmen preparing to dock. He studied them from atop the pilothouse, shielding his presence, as did Bailey—a quick learner this girl. At his insistence, they'd worked on honing her skills the entire journey. Her control was better now, not perfect, but better. Still, a simple demand on his powers like shielding made him feel weak and nauseous.

They sailed in silence, watching the city grow closer, buildings higher, the lights brighter. Docking was an agonizingly slow process as the tugboats guided the containership to its berth. They waited until the mooring lines were secured to the dock's bollards before moving down to the deck, careful to stay unseen. He had Bailey's sword belt looped around his shoulder and the sword sheath lying along his upper arm and back. The silver's repulsive aura needled against him.

They were forced to wait as the dock filled with workers, a crane swinging over and forklifts racing about. He clamped his teeth together, seething, his impatience making him feel even more exhausted. Eventually the dock cleared enough for them to jump down and race behind shipping containers.

They paused in the darkness, shielded from view. He glanced at Bailey. “Try again.”

He felt the coldness of her fear, but she only nodded and closed her eyes. She flinched, her mouth tightening, and finally managed to summon her spirit wolf. The wolf appeared faded…weaker and slower, but hanging in there nonetheless. It licked her hand with a tongue of smoke, and she smiled for the first time in a long while.

They made their way south, avoiding the activity of cranes and dockworkers, intending to swing west deeper into South Boston and out of the docks and industrial parks. The city felt right to him, like slipping on a perfectly tailored suit. A city so young compared to Bucharest or Constanta, but still maintaining a hint of the dignified Old World Europe beneath the brash veneer of New World Change. Boston. His city. Home.

They'd already hurried through the shadows past a different cargo freighter and a massive gantry crane when he sensed Maria. He stopped and grimly held himself in check. He tried to sense how close she was, fighting the increasing urge to run through the shipyard and tear the place apart until he found her. Where was the cool, calm, cold-blooded assassin now?

Bailey glanced at him. “What is it?”

“They're here.” Maria was close. Very close. And approaching him. He dropped his shielding a little more, hoping to catch her attention. He could smell her—cinnamon, roses and the underlying predator scent that always reminded him of blood and hunger and shadows. “She's
here
.”

Maria walked around the corner of a tall stack of shipping containers, and Xiesha strode along beside her. Maria halted when she saw him. Everything seemed to wind to a stop, sounds cut off, nothing moved. For him, it was a moment sliced from the heart of time.

“Karl…” The joy lit her eyes, and her face shone with cold, pale beauty. Her hair was as lush and dark and thick as he remembered, and his hands ached to run themselves through it again. He hammered back the pain dragging at him, slowing him, making every movement a sluggish dance with agony. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. He was home, and there stood the woman he loved.

They walked toward each other, a test of control with every step. Their gaze held the intensity of two wolves facing off, the knowledge of lovers in the dawn after consummation.

To hell with this—to hell with
control
. He wanted her.

Karl ran the last few steps to her, letting the sword belt and sheath fall from his shoulder to the pavement without a backward glance. Maria's eyes widened as he closed in. He grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall and kissed her deep, strong,
true
. She gasped when his hands fell on her, and that turned to an animal groan low in her throat. She kissed him back, with a ferocity that made his cold heart warm. Everything drew down to that point of contact, laser-focused on their connection, on their lips interlocked and their bodies intertwined. She smelled of gunpowder residue and smoke, but that hardly mattered. He crushed her to him. Feeling her. Reveling in her touch. He kissed along her jaw. The curve of her ear. Her hair.

She laughed softly against him, put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “I'm so glad you're safe. I missed you so much.”

He kissed her again, indulging in the feel of her lips, her hands tight on his body. At last he held the woman he loved again, and that made the expanse of his life and unlife worth every grueling hour it had taken to get here.

 

For Maria, the moment could not last long enough. Instants like these—well, they were like a flashbulb, painting the world in blinding white light for the briefest span, and then time started again, flowing on, diluting the magic. During moments like these she missed the beat of her heart the most.

Karl's eyes, when they'd lit on her, had blazed with red, with passion and need and love so fierce it had seemed to pierce her. When he'd grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, kissed her, so strong had been the war of emotions inside her—that battle of joy and love and relief—that she'd nearly laughed, nearly cried, and fought the urge to do both at once so hard it left her throat aching and her jaw muscles weak.

They broke apart after a long while. He set his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. Still she wanted this time to last forever. Knew it would not.

“I dreamed about you,” Maria told him, her voice almost a whisper. “Dreamed about you coming back to me.”

He kissed her again.

Someone cleared their throat. Karl broke the kiss and glanced behind him. Maria followed his gaze to a girl with spiky blue hair, a white greatcoat and a smoke wolf standing at her side. The other vampire from her dream, the one with the strange connection to Karl…

Karl straightened, setting Maria gently back down on the ground. He drew in breath to speak, but Xiesha beat him to the punch.

“Greetings, Master.” Xiesha gave an inscrutable smile, and her gaze shifted to the blue-haired vampire. “Master in name and deed now, it seems.”

He frowned and didn't answer.

“What the hell's she talking about?” But Maria knew. She already knew. She drew away from him and faced the new girl. “Who is she?”

“I'm Bailey Fletcher. My wolf's named Smoke.”

“The Thorn girl who answered the phone,” Maria said softly. Her claws pushed out from her fingers, one by one. “The girl who told me it was too late. Who wouldn't let me talk to my man. Who threw him to the lions.”

Fear bloomed in Bailey's eyes, she opened her mouth to reply but seemed to think better of it and bit at her lip instead. She took a step backward.

Karl set a hand on Maria's arm. “She's with me and she's not an enemy. You have to trust me. It's a very long story.” He glanced at Xiesha, but he didn't take his hand off her arm. “Hello, Xie.”

“I see you took good care of yourself in my absence.” Xiesha pointed at several of his wounds. “How bad are those?”

“They're nothing.”

Bailey spoke up. “They're pretty bad. A silver bullet wound in his upper arm—that one's serious. Werewolf bites on his forearm, claw marks on his back, burns all over his right hand.” She straightened and ignored his hard look. “And he fed me his blood when we were stuck in the hold on the ride over. So I wouldn't attack people.”

Christ,
she didn't just say what I think she said…
Maria tensed, her jaws clamping down, her teeth grinding.

Bailey squared off with Karl, her face defiant, but she glanced away quickly when she continued talking, her words coming faster. “So he's weak. Really weak.” She looked at Maria. “You ask me, he's just holding himself together to see you.”

It was hard to talk. She had to focus on drawing in air and forming the words. None of them wanted to spill out of her mouth. They wanted to freeze in her throat and die there.

“Is that true?” she finally managed. “Did you Turn this little bitch on the ship?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears—very quiet, a hollow room vaulted with threat. A cathedral of sound damaged in an earthquake. Another tremor would bring it all down.

“I Turned her in Ploeşti when she was dying.” He paused.
“Maria—”

She stepped out of reach. Part of her,
most
of her, shuddered with relief that the link she'd seen in her dream hadn't been some bond of love. But what had happened to all those vows of his, his promises he'd never make another vampire? One thing she'd always believed of Karl—he was a man of his word. Now… “She's your sireling.”

“I had no choice.” He watched her, an ember of red smoldering deep inside his eyes.

“Bullshit.”

“He's telling the truth,” Bailey said.

Maria had to check the urge to backhand the words out of the blue-haired bitch's filthy mouth. She could imagine her lying in Karl's arms, Karl biting her neck, Karl allowing her to bite him, to put her lips on him. An image of Delgado exploded into her mind with the force of a bomb. Delgado peering down at her with his hateful red eyes and his cold smile as he poured his blood into her mouth. And her: swallowing, drinking, feeling herself dying, feeling herself bound swallow after swallow to a creature she
hated
…

“She's your
slave
, God damn you.” She saw her words cut him. Watched the weariness in his face tighten down further. Watched the pain haunt his eyes.

“I never wanted that. And you know it.”

She did. She
did
know it. He'd told her and she believed him. He hated the word Master. Her mind knew it, but the fear wouldn't pull its teeth out of her heart. Jesus Christ. Her joyful reunion all busted into a million pieces.

Bailey spoke again. “I made him do it. I begged him, and when he wouldn't, I threatened him, and when that didn't work, I threatened both of you.” She lifted her chin and glared at Maria. “Don't blame him. He did what he had to do to keep you safe.”

Xiesha cocked her head. “If it
is
true you coerced him, then perhaps it's best we destroy you to keep the three of us safe from here onward.”

Bailey bared her fangs, but Maria saw the terror in her bright eyes.

“That's enough,” Karl said. “We've plenty of enemies without fighting each other. We're together, whether we like it or not.” He held out his right hand to Maria. She hissed in breath when she saw the deep, raw, burn marks on his palm. Her own hand clenched in sympathy at the pain he must constantly feel. That damned silver…

He kept his hand outstretched to her, meeting her eyes. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. “I need you, Maria.”

She took a step toward him. One step, that's all it took, and she threw herself into his chest. She hugged him so tightly she never wanted to let go, and he held her just as tight as she needed. When he tilted her chin up and kissed her, she reveled in it.
Gloated
in it.

Xiesha finally broke the moment, but Maria heard the regret in her voice. “Master, the night moves toward dawn. We aren't safe here. I need to treat those wounds, and you must feed.”

Maria suddenly sensed it as if she shared a master-sireling link with Karl, and the constant ache, buzz and burn of pain from the battering he'd taken flooded into her head. How he still stood upright she had no idea. The will to do that…and keep standing…to keep fighting through a fog of bright, red-hot agony…

“I'm fine,” Karl said.

“You're not fine, so stop being such a hard case.” Maria slipped around to his side, so his good arm was over her shoulder as she helped support his weight. “First we get back to the warehouse. Then I'll bring what you need.”

Karl frowned at her but didn't contradict her. They hurried back to the car through the shadows. Nobody spoke. As Maria drove, she sorted through names in her memory for a man worthy of killing.