MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (23 page)

He stayed crouched and inched his way toward the iron hooks securing the chandelier. He peered over the wall to be sure Cailin and that bastard were clear of the chandelier where they stood. They were, to his relief…just barely.

His Wootz blade at the ready, he pursed his lips and sucked air into the corner of his mouth, making a familiar chirping sound.

* * * * *

Cailin anguished over how she was going to get the blade from her sleeve. She had one chance and her only advantage was that Angus could not hear her thoughts. The
only
thing she gained from this amulet.

“The rapid beating of your heart betrays you,” he grunted. He licked a wet trail from her shoulder to her ear where he, again, pierced her lobe and groaned. Cailin hissed and jerked her head to the side, away from his mouth. He chuckled.

A wonderful, familiar twittering echo against the walls of the Grand Hall.

James!

The pace of her heart quickened—if that were even possible—and she frantically searched the room.

Angus moaned. “Oh, Cailin, you must know the fearful beating of your heart only arouses me more.” He ground his erection against her backside. “’Tis time I buried myself in your sweetness.”

She gasped as James’s precious face peered over the wall from the landing above.
He is going to get himself killed!

* * * * *

“Broderick MacDougal!” Malloren shouted over his cries of outrage as he repeatedly slammed against the impenetrable barrier she had erected. “You cannot break through!”

Broderick repeated the incantations to remove the barrier, even knowing they wouldn’t work, his voice growing hoarse. “If my family dies, I will personally enjoy tearing you apart!” Yet the more he threw his body against the unseen wall blocking him from her and his exit, the weaker he became and the more hope drained from his soul.

I knew this was a trap. God’s blood, I knew it!

* * * * *

James pointed at Cailin and then at to the wall to her right.
What in…Oh! He wants me to get away from Angus. Easier said than done.
In spite of her reservations, she nodded and clung to the small hope that Angus was preoccupied enough with his “seduction” to allow her the few moments James needed to do whatever he planned to do. Then his head ducked behind the wall and her mouth dropped open.
But when do I—?

James’s hands reached up and sawed at the rope tied to the hooks on the wall. Her eyes followed the path of the rope to the ceiling…and the large wooden chandelier.

With a screech, Cailin vaulted herself from Angus’s unsuspecting arms and dove for the shelter of the head table as the chandelier crashed down on a few of the men who stood groping themselves. The sickening cracks of their bones and odd twists of their necks had Cailin teetering between revulsion and elation.

James jumped from the landing, using a henchman to break his fall, and dispatched the man so swiftly, Cailin blinked in disbelief.

She had just enough time to slide the blade from her sleeve before a steel grip on her ankle snatched her from under the table. Angus yanked her to her feet and she swiped her small dagger at him when she spun around.

The edge sliced across his chest and he gasped, knocked the blade from her hands and stumbled backward. Her knife skidded across the stone floor. James appeared, shoved his stilettos into her hands and drew his sword, putting himself between her and Angus.

She brandished the daggers, ready for anything…except for the dumbfounded state in which Angus flailed around.

Blood coursed down his chest, staining his shirt now lying open from the slash she’d made. Confusion marred his brow as he studied himself. His cut did not heal. She had seen Broderick cut himself with a silver-gilded blade before, so even silver would not prevent the incision from healing, though a scar would remain. Something was different. Angus’s breath labored and his steps and stance were lethargic.
Perhaps the amulet has worked after all!

Anger replaced confusion and Angus drew his sword, lunging at James with a growl. The once-confused and gawking henchmen resumed their own advances and Cailin faced her foes with daggers twirling.

Still somewhat dazed and hazy from the laudanum, James was dismayed he could not remember the maneuvers Broderick or Cailin had taught him. And since he no longer had the element of a surprise attack on Campbell, James resolved to fight the immortal with the skills embedded into his spirit through
Fechtschulen
, routines he could execute in his sleep. Knowing Cailin’s skill with her daggers, he wasn’t particularly concerned for her wellbeing, but still kept her in his peripheral vision as he continued to spar with Campbell. However, the body count piling up at his feet at the hands of his betrothed had him paying less attention to her and focusing more of his efforts on the enemy before him.

Campbell lunged. James parried and swept his blade around for a swipe, cutting Campbell’s shoulder. The Vamsyrian hissed and spun away, putting distance between them.

Advancing again, Campbell slashed at James’s thrust, batting the blade away with his own. James dodged and twirled, arcing his sword and slicing Campbell’s back. He growled and faced James, panting. This immortal was supposed to be a formidable opponent. Save for the skills he obviously possessed over the men he’d hired, Campbell did not seem any more challenging than a mortal. Though Campbell was a bit faster, he never came near the speed at James the way Broderick had. And more importantly…Campbell did not seem to anticipate any of his moves. The immortal’s face reflected James’s surprise and confusion.

Executing a specific routine designed to snatch a winning blow, James thrilled when his blade sank deep into the shoulder of Campbell’s sword arm. Both staggered backward in a moment of stunned silence. Anger twisted Campbell’s lips and he thrust forward, returning the blow…his sword sinking into James’s sword shoulder in retaliation.

Gritting his teeth, James grunted from each blow Campbell dealt, driving him backward across the room. Weakened state or not, Campbell forced James to question his stability.

* * * * *

Sufficiently drained from his attempts, Broderick laid on the floor, panting.

“I am sorry, Broderick, but this was necessary.” She stepped next to his prone figure and she was either a fool for trusting him to come so close and risk getting into his grasp, or she knew exactly how incapable he was of taking any action. He feared it was the latter.

“What is the difference…between the two methods?” He struggled to gain enough strength to speak or sit up.

“What two methods?”

He lay on his back, weak like a newborn, drawing deep breaths. “Other than…the burning versus shielding? To what purpose…would someone use…the cleansing?”

“The cleansing allows a subtle form of protection, something the blood of the cursed would not recognize because it slowly drains away the power of the immortal. The burning prevents the item of protection from being removed. Though a Vamsyrian may be able to feed from such a protected person, wearing the cleansed item would
taint
their blood, as it were, further weakening the immortal.”

Broderick shuddered at the thought of how little that might protect Cailin after all and felt even worse about having left his family behind.

“However, now that you are silent enough to finally listen to me, I can tell you I have also foreseen that your family will not die.”

In spite of the helplessness of his position and the lack of trust he had in her at this moment, relief still soothed his exhausted spirit.

“They will survive and your efforts to come here will not be in vain.” Malloren strolled to the table littered with scrolls and seated herself. “If you ever hope to have the prophecy fulfilled, you must never kill Angus Campbell.”

The laughter started low in his belly. He rolled onto his side and let it run its course, his guffaws echoing off the many books and shelves and reaching high above him. “I believe, woman,” he said after his amusement subsided, “that I must be losing my wit. I thought you just told me I must never kill Angus Campbell.”

“You’re not in a frenzy, Vamsyrian.”

He struggled to prop himself upon his elbow and glared at the prophetess. “I don’t give a damn about some fucking prophecy!”

“You had
better
give a damn.” She raised a critical eyebrow. “If either you or Angus Campbell dies, Davina’s soul will be destroyed.”

* * * * *

Six bodies littered the ground around them and Cailin near stumbled over one of them. Four men—including that damned Jasper—crawled away wounded or moaned in a corner of the room. Only Angus stood—sword poised before him—facing Cailin and James, who held his own sword aloft in spite of the wound in his shoulder.

His brow furrowed in confusion and his mouth twisted in frustration, Angus faltered on unsteady legs, blood streaming down his torso from the gaping wound at his shoulder and the slash Cailin had inflicted across his chest. The amulet must have made him weak, and gave them an advantage over the immortal.

Angus stepped out and jabbed his blade toward James, but Cailin successfully blocked him with her dagger in one hand and she thrust the amulet forward with the other, breaking the thin leather cord. Angus howled as Cailin pressed the relic to his chest and he stumbled back, recoiling. His gaze dropped to his new wound and then to the amulet she held toward him like a shield.

He squinted, studying the medallion. Recognition dawned on his face, and he stood bewildered for a moment—his eyes searching Cailin’s for answers—before he dashed through the door, escaping the Great Hall with Jasper limping behind him.

“I am none too pleased at that strange departure,” James murmured.

“Agreed.” Turning to face him, Cailin pulled the collar of his shirt back from his wound.

“Later, Cailin,” he scolded and waved her hands away. “We cannot bide while he may be fetching reinforcements. Come.”

She nodded, embarrassed she didn’t think of that danger herself. Following close, she kept a watchful eye behind them as they navigated their path through the ruins and out onto the glen leading to the bordering trees.

“There, laddie,” James cooed to his horse as he approached and untied the reins from a low-hanging branch. Cailin hopped up into the saddle at his encouragement and James mounted behind her, kicking the gelding into a fast trot. “Not sure how far we can get with him carrying two riders, but I hope ’tis far enough for us to find a place to rest. This poor animal needs it.”

“As do you,” she reminded him. “Are you still bleeding?” She tried to turn and peer at his wound over her shoulder only to have James set her to rights before him.

“’Tis fine I am,” he growled. “I shall tend to it later.”

Cailin huffed and bit back the tears needling her eyes.

It seemed an hour or more of riding passed before James slowed enough for them to circle about and face the direction from which they retreated. “I see no signs of anyone pursuing us,” he said after a long pause, his voice gravelly.

He reined the horse back down the path they headed. Exhaustion had caught up with Cailin and her body ached from the last two days of her ordeal. She couldn’t image what James must be suffering after being stabbed. Shifting in the saddle behind her, he hissed and leaned back. His arms coming around her, he uncorked a small bottle, took a swig and replaced the cork.

“What is that?”

“’Tis an elixir called laudanum. For pain.” After a moment or two of silence, he said in a whisper, “I grabbed it from my father’s body.”

Cailin pulled James’s arm tighter around her waist. “Oh, James, I’m so very sorry.”

He grunted, but said no more on the matter.

The orange glow of torches dotted the horizon, giving evidence to some establishment in the distance. Eventually, they rode into a small village. “Thank our Lord, they have an inn.” Cailin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Aye.” James sagged against her back and his arms briefly squeezed her midsection. “Let us make haste.” He steered the gelding toward the shadows, lowered Cailin to the ground then dismounted himself. Grabbing a cloak from the back of his saddle, he donned the garment with a grimace and made an effort to hide the blood on his shirt. “I want to avoid any chance they may turn us away, thinking we bring trouble.”

She nodded.

After unloading his saddlebags from the horse, James handed over his gelding to the groomsman at the stable and ushered Cailin into the inn. At this late hour, she hadn’t expected so many people to be seated at the tables and standing around the lamp-lit room of the public area.

Taking her by the hand, James led her to the side serving counter. “Do you have a room available?”

A tall lanky man with a shining bald head and bulbous red nose eyed them both and pursed his lips in disapproval. “Who be askin’?”

“My wife and I have been on a long journey and we need a place to rest for the night.”

Cailin clamped her lips closed at his lie and the flutter of excitement tickling her belly…or was that her stomach growling over the tantalizing aromas wafting out from the kitchen behind the innkeeper?