Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (21 page)

"No more than a cup or so," Charles was offended, I could tell. "Don't you think I know better than that?"

"Here," Gavin handed Charles a fresh bag of blood. My stomach almost rebelled at the sight of it.

"You don't have watermelon instead?" I asked. It was meant to be a joke. It didn't sound like a joke.

"No, love," Charles clipped the top off the bag with slightly extended claws. "Drink this quickly, it'll help. As much of it as you can."

Holding my breath, I drank as much as I could and stopped before I gagged. Not even two-thirds of the bag was gone when I stopped. Charles eyed me skeptically as I handed the bag back.

"We will feed the rest of this to you later," Gavin declared. "Rinse out your mouth quickly and come—the Honored One does not like to be kept waiting."

* * *

"Have you seen the news?" Wlodek asked as I was ushered into his study. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit, white shirt and burgundy tie. His shoes alone might buy a yacht. Thankfully, his question was for Gavin, not me.

"I have," Gavin nodded slightly.

"This will cover the holes in our story," Wlodek almost smiled. "Charles, do you have a copy of that news segment?"

"Yes, Honored One," Charles tapped the tablet in his hand with a finger.

"Good. We will proceed," Wlodek swept through the door, leaving us to bob along in his wake.

* * *

"Jayson, I can do some damage control, but too many have seen this already," Bill sighed.

Jayson blinked in shock as the video played over and over. "Janine," he growled. "She was at the Sub-Mariner."

"I've already sent someone to pick her up," Bill nodded. "And I have someone else questioning the reporter. The reporter, at least, has been set straight on Breanne's disappearance, but as we cannot produce her at the moment, many will believe the lies."

"How could they even think that Hank and I would hire someone to pretend to be Bree?" Jayson dropped his head in his hands and moaned. "My dad fired me an hour ago. I don't have a job, now," Jayson's voice was muffled.

"You have a job, but your current status as a, well, celebrity," Bill said, "will work against you in my department."

"I get that," Jayson said.

* * *

"I've been fired, that's what happened," Colbi shoved personal items into a box while Mitchell Graves and a security guard watched. "How was I to know Hayworth was working with the NSA?"

"If you'd discussed this with me beforehand, we could have researched it a little better," Mitchell snapped. "I hear Jayson Rome lost his job over this, and if he sues the station, I can kiss my job good-bye, too."

"He's the one engaging in deviant behavior," Colbi snarled.

"His privacy was invaded—at your request. Anyway that's what I'm hearing," Mitchell snapped. "Why didn't you just point a camera through his bedroom window? The club where that footage was taken may have a thing or two to say as well."

"He was whipping that woman," Colbi began.

"And she was begging him to hit her harder. It's a lifestyle, and consenting adults, Colbi. Hold on, my phone is ringing." Mitchell pulled the cell from his pocket. "Hello," he said and listened for several seconds.

"How did you get that information?" Mitchell demanded. "It's not true, I swear it." Mitchell ended the call a few seconds later. "Get in my office," he growled at Colbi.

* * *

"What was that about?" Colbi asked.

"I just got a call from Jayson Rome's attorney. He said that they have information regarding our affair, and that if we don't do damage control on all this, it'll go public."

"How the hell did they find out about that?" Colbi gaped at Mitchell. "Oh, my God."

"If this goes public, I'll lose my kids," Mitchell said. "And my wife. Fuck!"

* * *

"How is our prisoner today?" The lieutenant surveyed the shackled vampire, whose emaciated body rested on the stone floor at his feet. "Weak from a lack of blood?"

"I know who you are," the vampire lifted dark eyes to the lieutenant. "I may be weak, but my hearing is still quite strong. I know they call you Acrimus."

"And I know who you are as well,
Tybus
," Acrimus laughed. It was awkward, that laugh. Acrimus still had difficulty with human emotions of any kind. "You look exactly like your reincarnation, you know. Too bad you're sucking his soul away. That's the rule, after all. A soul can't coexist with itself in the same timeline without sufficient power, protection or permission. Only one body gets the soul in those cases, and since you came first," Acrimus attempted a shrug. "If I can't destroy a target directly, then it's only prudent to do it indirectly."

"You did this," Tybus hissed. "You should have left me dead in the past."

"Ah, but where might my satisfaction be in all of this?" Acrimus struggled to smile. "And if you're not good, I'll leave you without blood for another day. I think you can make it that long, can't you?"

* * *

Breanne's Journal

"You will not recall how to get here," Wlodek laid compulsion after we'd parked in a wooded area. I nodded, although his compulsion didn't even cause a flutter in my brain. Chislehurst Caves lay below us, consisting mostly of excavated warrens and halls carved in centuries past for chalk and flint. The Druids had begun it, followed by the Romans and then others. Parts of it had even been used as a bomb shelter during World War II.

One section, however, was a natural cave, and only the Druids had found it in the past. That cave was a holy place to them—before the vampires stumbled across it. Now, that cave housed the Vampire Council meetings and the entrance was carefully hidden and guarded zealously.

I followed obediently behind a vampire named Russell, who'd arrived to ferry Wlodek to the meeting. Wlodek followed me, Charles came next and Gavin trailed behind, keeping watch. Russell was Chief of Wlodek's Enforcers, and Gavin Chief of Assassins. Their duty was to protect Wlodek. I felt it was my duty to protect them; they were all important to the future. I figured Charles was important, too—since I couldn't read him, I could only assume that was true.

Two vampires stood at the cave entrance, and I almost stumbled when I saw them. Trevor stood there, watching the area around us with sharp eyes.

Will, the other vampire, drew in a breath as I recovered and slipped past him. He smelled female vampire, and wasn't old enough to hide his surprise as Trevor did. Was his brain furiously working, however, attempting to determine how a female vampire might be brought to a Council meeting?

I struggled to keep my shields up so the others wouldn't hear the frantic beating of my heart. Yes, I wanted to run back to Trevor and fling my arms around him. I couldn't. This Trevor had no idea who I was. None. Sadly, the Trevor in the future had no idea who I was, either. Silently I cursed Teeg San Gerxon and kept my eyes on Russell's back as he led me through a dark, narrow tunnel.

* * *

"They're freaking," Terrence "Terry" Johnston informed Hank over the phone. "I have no idea where your information came from, but it appears to be golden."

"It came from Breanne," Hank replied. "Good job, Terry. Keep the pressure on. Bill's handling some of it, but these people need to sweat."

"Where is Breanne? Do you know?" Terry asked.

"Bill says out of the country, but I don't know exactly where."

"Probably a good thing to get her away from all this," Terry said. "I don't know if her life will ever be normal."

"It probably won't be, and that's a shame," Hank agreed. "Thanks for taking this case, Terry. We owe you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, and you'll get the bill, trust me," Terry chuckled.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

Radomir stood at the end of the tunnel, just inside a wide cavern. I almost hyperventilated when I saw him. Lowering my shield for a quick reading, I swiftly raised it again. He didn't remember me, and I found that more frightening than if he'd recognized me.

I hadn't done this—made him forget. Someone else had and I was terrified, because I had no idea who that someone might be. Focusing on breath control, I kept my steps as even as possible and turned my eyes back to Russell's broad shoulders.

We were early as it turned out—Wlodek preferred it that way, so Charles could set up and he could survey the Council members as they walked inside the cave. I was shunted to the side and hidden beside Gavin; he intentionally blocked sight of me from anyone entering the cave.

Wlodek took a seat at the center of a large, horseshoe-shaped stone table, and Charles set his tablet, a laptop and several other items out beside the Head of the Council, preparing to take meeting notes.

Is the cave wired for electricity?
I ventured to ask Gavin mentally. Muted lights shown around the perimeter of the cave, dimly lighting the space.

"The lighting is solar-powered, from the surface," Gavin replied softly. "No more questions, now. I will answer those later, if you ask. Charles will also answer, if you'd prefer to speak with him."

I nodded my thanks and went back to watching Charles and Wlodek prepare for the meeting.

* * *

"Ready to see Director Bill?" Winkler walked into the kitchen where Trajan and Trace waited.

"Yeah, boss, let's go," Trace lifted van keys off the kitchen island.

"He says he has two agents with him, and we may inadvertently recognize one of them," Winkler rolled his shoulders.

"Been working too long on that computer," Trajan grinned as Winkler worked kinks out of stiff muscles. "Meet me in the dojo later, and I'll beat that out of you."

"Maybe we can beat on Bill's agents," Trace snickered. "Show 'em what a werewolf is made of."

"Please, don't destroy the relationship we have with Bill's department," Winkler said with a grin.

"Come on, boss, you know you want to cream some of those guys."

"Maybe." Winkler's grin widened.

"I think you wanted to cream Bill in the beginning, when Hancock was still Director," Trajan teased.

"I may have, I can't recall," Winkler waved a hand, dismissing Trajan's words. "He kinda grows on you, though," he added.

"I like Director Bill," Trajan said. "Better than I like Hancock, nowadays."

"I like my dentist better than I like Hancock," Trace joked.

"Bro, you don't need a dentist, you're a wolf," Trajan slapped Trace on the back.

"I get my teeth cleaned. He always says I have perfect teeth," Trace said.

"I like my lawyer more than I like Hancock," Winkler quipped. All three werewolves burst out laughing.

* * *

"These guys are werewolves?" Jayson gazed out the jet's window at three men waiting on the ground for them to disembark. "The shortest one is over six feet."

"That's Winkler, the Dallas Packmaster. He's six-three. The tallest, Trajan, played basketball in high school. Being a werewolf brought a halt to any college ball, though," Bill explained. "He's six-eleven. His brother, Trace, there, is six-ten. Both are experts in martial arts. If you want a workout, go ahead, but tell 'em to take it easy on you. Otherwise, they'll beat you down until you're part of the floor."

"Sounds like fun," Jayson muttered.

"Come on, door's open," Bill rose from his seat and stretched. "They'll take us to dinner. Believe me, you've never seen anybody eat until you've watched werewolves devour a meal."

* * *

Breanne's Journal

The Council members filed in, one or two at a time, all of them guarded by at least one vampire. Some I recognized, some I didn't. I knew Baxter and Dmitri—they worked with Drake and Drew in the future. I'd only seen them a time or two, and they'd had nothing to do with my mistreatment.

I wanted to gasp as Nestor and Cecil walked in together, guarded by two Enforcers. Lissa had known in the past that they were bad, but so far, that hadn't come out. They were still members in good standing on the Council.

The one who'd taken Ilaisaane's seat on the Council—Marcellus—walked in last. I read him quickly—some members considered Marcellus a yes-man and deep in Wlodek's pocket, but he voted as he saw fit. His votes often aligned with those of the Head of the Council, and some resented it.

"This meeting will come to order," Charles announced. "The first item on the agenda is funding for research on blood substitute."

* * *

"We haven't seen the car again—I've had some of my wolves cruise past the place, and never in the same vehicle," Winkler said, wiping barbecue sauce off his fingers. A plate of rib bones lay on the table in front of him; they'd gone to his favorite barbecue restaurant for dinner.

"I had someone analyze the photographs you sent—it's the same car, rust spots and all," Bill said.

"If it hadn't been registered like it was, I wouldn't be half as worried," Winkler nodded. "Saxom was the mastermind behind Xenides. While we didn't have much to do with Saxom, Xenides still gives me nightmares."