Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (23 page)

Once he was away from her, as now, his brain would start working instead of his dick. Listening to her talk about her father earlier this evening, and piecing that together with some of the things he knew from her school records, he wondered why he’d been so arrogant as to think he could uproot her life, lock her up, and make her want to stay in Penton. She’d worked hard to stand on her own and escape being under a man’s control.

The great Aidan Murphy, savior of abused and addicted humans. Arrogant ass with a God complex, Owen had called him. It awed him that Krys not only had survived what he’d done to her, but also seemed to have become stronger through it. He could just as easily have broken her spirit so badly she’d never have recovered.

He should take her home, but he couldn’t. And not just because of Owen, but because, at heart, he was a selfish prick. He hadn’t felt happy in so long that those minutes with her, the feel of her desire, was something he didn’t have the courage to give up.

He left the greenhouse and approached the front of his house, growing still as he picked up subtle movement in the dense row of ligustrum in front of his porch. A figure moved slightly away from the shadows, enough for him to get a clear look.

Lucy.

He sniffed the heavy night air, making sure that she hadn’t led Owen here, intentionally or not. He also wanted a few seconds to dampen the anger that threatened to obliterate all reason when he thought of how she’d sacrificed Daniel.

Finally he moved fast, grabbing her arm on his way to the door and shoving her inside ahead of him.

“Ouch. Shit, Aidan. You don’t have to pull my arm out of joint.” Lucy jerked away from him once they’d cleared the threshold and put some distance between them. He slammed the door hard enough to jar the front windows.

“What the
hell
do you think you’re doing, killing one of our fams? And what did you tell my brother once you finished screwing him? How much of Penton have you given up?” Aidan advanced on her, fists clenched.

Her nostrils flared, and he smelled the fear on her as she backed up against the wall, holding her hands in front of her. “I didn’t betray you. You know me better than that. I’m trying to find out as much as I can about Owen and his scathe.”

Aidan veered away from her and threw his car keys on the sofa table. “You stink. You smell of Owen.”

He pointed her to one of the armchairs in front of the window. He sat in the other, crossed his legs, and watched her.

Lucy looked tired. She wore her usual provocative garb—leather skirt and tight sweater and boots—but her eyes lacked the old Lucy Sinclair spark. She looked a helluva lot healthier than her fam, though.

“You might be interested to know we’re having Daniel’s body embalmed and sent back to his family in South Carolina, along with a big load of bullshit about how he died.”

Lucy flinched and looked at the floor. “I needed to gain Owen’s trust.”

Damn her to hell and back. “Was it worth it? Owen isn’t stupid, Lucy. He’s good at playing the fool, and he knows how to charm the ladies.”

“Runs in the family then, doesn’t it?” she snapped, glaring at him. “Want to know how you compare in the sack? I’m probably the only woman who’s screwed both of you—or did you share back in the good old days?”

It took all his strength to keep him from breaking something, like her pretty little neck. “Don’t try to make this about us, or about sex. Owen killed Doc, a man that I know damn well you loved. How can you stand for him to touch you?”

Lucy deflated, her shoulders slumping. “Because I want him dead, Aidan, and the quickest way for me to get him there without jeopardizing Penton is to gain his trust. You might be
willing to sit around and play cat-and-mouse games with him, but I want that son of a bitch gone. First I’m going to find out how much power he’s got behind him, and then I want him to know that what he did to Doc mattered.”

Aidan wanted to point out that she’d treated Daniel’s death as lightly as Owen had treated Doc’s, but she wouldn’t have heard it. She was too lost.

Her voice softened to little more than a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. I’ve told you before. You keep people in neat little compartments—lieutenants, familiars, scathe, Mirren. He gets his own category. You don’t allow messy things like love to make you vulnerable.”

Aidan closed his eyes. She had no idea. “There are too many people, vampires and humans alike, whose lives depend on how this plays out,” he said, the anger draining from his voice. “I won’t run after Owen without knowing how big his scathe is, where they’re hiding, how many humans are with them, how many on the Tribunal are backing him—because there are some. Can you answer any of those questions?”

Lucy looked at the floor. “Not yet. He wants to screw me, but he doesn’t want to have pillow talk. All I know is what little I’ve overheard. He does have someone he’s in contact with by cell phone—he changes phones constantly so no one can track him, and he makes sure no one can hear those conversations. He moves every day, and has someone going to Atlanta every couple of days to pick up new phones and supplies.”

Aidan pondered the information. “What kind of supplies?”

She shook her head. “Food for their humans, since they can’t store anything. I don’t know what else.”

“You still don’t know how many vampires he has with him?”

“They’re scattered in caves back in the hills and take their daysleep in the basements of some of the abandoned houses. They move constantly. He’d be suspicious if I asked him outright—maybe after I’ve had a while longer to work on him.”

Aidan studied her, weighing the trust he had left. Not much. But he’d at least try to keep her safe. “Stay away from the mill village for a couple of days.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just do it. And if you can leave Owen there without you, all the better.” He was sure he’d feel a few regrets about hearing that his brother had died in a mill village fire. They could join all the other regrets that he bundled around with him.

She gave him an amused look. “Just listen to you. I thought Owen was the bigger hard-ass among the Murphy brothers. Exactly what happened between the two of you back in the olden days? He won’t tell me.” Lucy relaxed in the chair and leaned back against the cushion, obviously having decided that the physical threat from Aidan had passed.

His eyes rested on the half-burned chunks of wood in the cold fireplace and let his mind go to a place he seldom visited anymore.

“Owen was responsible for the death of my wife,” he said, as flatly as he might have told her the weather forecast. “My son, Cavan, was six years old at the time, but I was able to save him from Owen. He was raised by a neighboring farmer as an indentured field hand, but he ended up happy. Will tracked down his descendants in Ireland. He lived long.” It was the only consolation in the whole sorry tale—that, and hoping Cavan hadn’t remembered what had happened to his parents.

Lucy’s eyes widened. She’d been a member of Aidan’s scathe for almost twenty-five years, since he’d found her in Atlanta.
But he’d buried the memories of Abby and Cavan deeply. Only Mirren and Hannah knew the story, and he hadn’t told Hannah. She’d just known.

“I never knew you were married.” She sounded shocked. “So you
did
know how I felt when Doc died. She was your wife when you were made vampire? Did Owen turn you?”

“No, he didn’t turn me.” Aidan’s mind had conjured a beautiful, laughing girl with hair the color of honey and a small, dark-haired boy with his father’s quiet, serious way of looking at the world. “Owen and I were turned by the same vampire.” His laugh was bitter. “He thought being turned was the best thing that ever happened to him. He’s a much better vampire than I am, as I’m sure he’s told you.”

Aidan’s fingers picked at the seam on the arm of his chair. He wouldn’t talk to her about this anymore, wouldn’t have told her this much if Krys hadn’t stirred up so many memories. The woman was distracting him, and he couldn’t afford it.

Lucy leaned forward. “Owen’s jealous, you know. That people follow you, trust you. He leads by fear and he knows you don’t have to. That’s why he wants whatever you have.”

Aidan turned from the fireplace and looked at her. She obviously didn’t know that Owen was doing this to save his own life, so she hadn’t gotten as close to him as she thought. “Jealous or not, he won’t get Penton. Kill him if you get the chance, or don’t. Regardless, watch your back. He won’t ever fully trust you, no matter what he tells you.”

He paused, hating that she’d set this plan in motion. “You know, after what happened with Daniel, I can’t bond you back into the scathe. No human would ever agree to be your fam, and I wouldn’t ask anyone to.”

Lucy stood up and pulled the front window drape aside about a quarter-inch, looking for movement. “I understand that. I knew the cost of what I did, and I’ll live with it.”

She dropped the shade and headed for the door. “And just so you won’t be surprised, Mirren’s been standing outside the window waiting to rip my heart out if I made a move against you. Tell him he’s not nearly as stealthy as he thinks.”

Aidan gave her a grim smile as he got up to see her out. “Tell him yourself.”

Pausing in the doorway, she turned and placed her hands on either side of his face, and then kissed his cheek. “Good-bye, Aidan.” As he watched her stride across the yard and disappear into the shadows, he thought of their years together, her spirit and humor and love, and it felt as if part of him were walking away with her.

Mirren cursed as he climbed the front steps and paused on the stoop to look into the darkness between the Calverts’ house and Aidan’s. “How’d she know I was here?”

“It’s a talent.” Aidan led him into the house and poured them each a glass of whiskey. They had some planning to do in the final hour before dawn.

“Have those talents helped her learn anything more useful than how well Owen can fuck?”

“Don’t even go there.” Aidan posed Krys’s idea of using the fams to hunt during the day and filled Mirren in on Lucy’s situation. “I think, to be safe, we have to assume this phone contact of Owen’s is someone on the Tribunal, maybe even Matthias Ludlam himself. That complicates things for us. And they know you’re with me now, as well as Will. So it makes us an even bigger target.”

Mirren found a few choice names for Matthias and the Tribunal. “So we have to sit back and wait for Owen to hit us again?”

Aidan took a sip of whiskey and watched the golden liquid swirl around the glass as he twirled it between his fingers. “Hell no. No waiting. We need to make some phone calls before dawn. Our scathe might not have enough information to attack Owen’s people directly, but even the Tribunal can’t complain if we have our humans burn the rodent infestation out of the mill village tomorrow.”

A
rap at the door jolted Krys awake, and she sat up, heart pounding. A second knock sent her fumbling for the bedside clock. Just after four thirty a.m. Something must be wrong. What if Aidan had been hurt?

“Just a minute.” Wait—was the door locked? She tried to remember whether she’d heard the click of the deadbolt when Aidan left her, but couldn’t. Either he’d forgotten, or he couldn’t make love to her and then lock her up. She hoped it was the latter, a sign of trust. If it was unlocked, why didn’t the person come in instead of knocking?

She scrambled out of bed and pulled on jeans and a sweater, tossing her nightgown on the chair. She looked at her shoes for a moment, considering, but a third round of knocks sent her to the door in bare feet.

Pathetic how she’d gotten so used to being locked in that answering the door was a novelty. She looked blankly at the smiling man in the hallway. He was about her height—maybe an inch shorter, with graying hair, olive skin, and soulful brown
eyes. Human or vampire? She’d guess the latter, based on the utter stillness with which he regarded her.

“Uh, can I help you? Are you supposed to be down here?”

He upped the wattage of his smile, making no attempt to hide his fangs. “I’m Lorenzo Caias, a member of the Vampire Tribunal visiting Aidan. My familiar and I are staying down the hall. May I come in?”

As if she could keep him out if he wanted in badly enough. She stepped aside and shivered as he passed. He seemed to exude an energy that was almost electric in its power, as if she might feel a charge shoot through her fingertips if she touched him.

“Isn’t it close to dawn for you to be out visiting, Mr. Caias?” What the hell would a member of the Vampire Tribunal want with her? Till a few hours ago, she hadn’t even known it existed.

“Call me Renz.” He took a seat on the end of the sofa and crossed his legs, looking as if he was settling in for a long chat. She hoped he didn’t keel over into his daysleep here in her room. What would she do with him if that happened? “I thought I might be able to answer some questions for you.”

His voice carried the trace of an accent, but it was different from the faint lilt of Aidan and Mirren, more as if his native language might be Spanish, which jibed with his dark good looks.

She sat tentatively in the armchair near the other end of the sofa. She’d learned enough about vampire strength to know that she would be out of her league if he came after her, but there was no point making it easy on him by sitting within reach.