Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (11 page)

The guard nodded and went back to his post to speak into the telephone there. A few seconds later, the gate swung open and he gestured for us to continue.

“My way would have been more stylish,” I muttered.

“Well, the next time we drive to the home of a coven that doesn’t like me very well, you can break in.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He cut the engine once we were directly in front of the house. I got out of the car, ran up the front stone steps to stand in the spill of light at the top, and without waiting for him to catch up, I yanked open the front door.

A butler met me before I was one step inside, dressed in navy and with calm eyes that didn’t betray any concern about the intrusion. I swear, the help in these fucking places came from Stepford. “Can I help you—”

Nate brushed past me. “Jeffrey and Heaven—where are they?”

“In the study, I believe,” the butler replied. “If you follow—”

“I know the way,” I interrupted him, and Nate and I strode through the foyer.

The warlock kept up, but then I wasn’t moving vampirey fast—not with my gut screaming as I walked. We probably looked quite the picture to the staff: me with my torn and bloodstained dress, tangled hair, and various scratches and wounds; Nate in his black clothes from the party with nary a mark or speck of dust on them, not-quite-shoulder-length hair gleaming and swinging.

Stupid pretty boy and his...stupid prettiness. Next time
he
could get in the actual gunfight. See how he fared after
that
.

We both walked with purpose, so I assumed he knew the place fairly well.
How
he knew it well when his family and the Thierings had a blood feud was beyond me—I didn’t think Mish would’ve brought him over for tea.

The study was what you’d expect in a mansion big enough to have a
study
. Fireplace, furniture almost as old as I was, rows of bookcases. The crackling fire and several sconces lit the place, giving it a dignified glow. We found Jeffrey seated at a desk, while Heaven sat on one of her antique sofas. Mishka got most of her physical looks from Heaven—the blonde hair, green eyes, and delicate stature. Though in her late forties, Heaven looked at least ten years younger, and it was clear that had Mish survived past her mid-twenties, she would have aged well. The only qualities I found she had in common with her father were her quick temper and ability to hold a grudge. Speaking of which, Jeff looked less than thrilled to have me and Nate in his home.

“Vampire,” he said, glowering at me.

“Warlock,” I returned in a mock-ominous voice, and wiggled my fingers in the air for good measure.

“And now that we’ve established what races we’re from,” Heaven interrupted coolly, “why don’t you tell us what you’re doing here bleeding on my carpet, Miss Lain?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood.” I casually ran my hand along the back of the couch as I walked around the room. “And I was just wondering if either of you have hired any hits through your daughter lately.”

“No, thanks to you we—” Jeffrey snapped as he rose from his chair and started toward me.

“Hush, dear.” Heaven cast a glare in his direction, which silenced her husband. She turned back to me, tucking stray strands of hair back in the French twist holding the rest. The gesture was very Mishka-ish, and I wondered if it gave Nate a little tightening in his gut as it did for me. “Neither of us have had any contact with her for almost two years now.”

“Really? You sure you didn’t maybe tell her to hire me to kill Nate’s father?”

The room went silent. Still. The fire popped, snapping as if offended by the silence, and spat sparks.

“No.” Heaven eyed Nate for a moment, then her gaze smoothly slid back to me. “We heard someone else was taking care of that, so there hardly seemed any point.”

“And yet the large sum of money in my bank account tells another story,” I said.

“She’s telling the truth,” Nate spoke up. “That was Mishka and me.”

Jeffrey let out a bitter bark of a laugh—the type that got my hackles up. Douchebag laughter. I kind of wanted to punch him. “Haven’t you grown up? Putting a contract out on your pops like that—I didn’t think you had the balls anymore, boy.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Heaven shot at him.

My gaze slid between each of them, weighing the situation. I’d have to brush up on my politics after all—this was more than blood feud mocking. Didn’t have the balls “anymore”? And what kind of bad blood was between the elder O’Connor and youngest son?

Heaven smoothed her dove gray pencil skirt, another habit that mirrored Mishka. “Nathan, would you care for a drink?”

“Actually, I have to make a few phone calls.” His blue gaze went to mine, a familiarity there I wasn’t expecting. “I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll count the moments until you return.”

And he nearly rolled his eyes in reply—it was close—and gave a small shake of his head. Was probably
this
close to slapping me magically if he could get the words out without me snapping his neck. Nate disappeared into the hall.

I decided to lounge on the loveseat across from Heaven. “Hey, I’ll take a drink, Jeff.”

“Sorry, we’re not stocked to feed your kind here.”

“Sure you are—just roll up your sleeve, slit your wrist, and put some in a glass for me. Maybe add one of those cute little umbrellas while you’re at it.”

He blanched. I stifled laughter—couldn’t believe the jerk-off fell for that.

“Just kidding,” I said. “I’ll take a glass of sherry.”

“How is Mishka?” Heaven asked as Jeffrey went to the bar. Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of her daughter’s name, and I knew the information I had to impart to her should be explained delicately.

“Mishka’s dead.” Delicacy really isn’t my forte.

The glass in Jeffrey’s hand shattered as it hit the floor. Heaven went pure ashen, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Shit. Should’ve asked my questions
before
I dropped that on them. Now they’d probably cry or something. I was still smarting from the bullet in my gut and didn’t want to suffer an hour of awkward moping.

Heaven shook her head. “Goddess, no, she can’t be...”

“You bitch!” Jeffrey spat. “This is your fault!”

“Hardly,” I replied. “I got my ass handed to me while trying to save her.”

Heaven closed her eyes and bowed her head, burying her face in her hands as she started to silently sob.

Yep. Awkward crying. God help me, this was pure fucking torture. “Do you have, like, a therapist on call? Someone I can phone in to drug you or something long enough for me to get some answers? It’s been a long night—I don’t have a lot of patience for grief.”

More silence. Jeff was almost as pale as I was. Shit, I might be sitting there awhile.

When Heaven looked up at me, anger blazed in her emerald eyes. I tensed, swallowed dryly. Hoped she didn’t throw a fireball at me.

Her voice came out dark and deceptively steady. “When?”

“Oh, about forty-five minutes ago,” I said. “Three masked men, who seem to be the strongest half-demons I’ve come across, shot her and blew up her apartment.”

“They had explosives?”

“No, just the ability to summon rather large balls of fire at will. Sound like anyone you know?”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about them?” The pain in her voice was overshadowed by fury. Never would’ve pegged Heaven for the Momma-Bear type, but then she loved her daughter. And love made people angry.

“They drove a black SUV and there was the matter of one of them not dying when I broke his neck. Ringing any proverbial bells yet?”

“Is that all you know?”

Jeez, a bit of gratitude would be nice—it was still more than
she
knew thirty seconds ago. “For some reason they weren’t interested in killing me. One of them had a stun gun.”

“So it was your fault!” Jeffrey shouted. “They must have been after you—”

“Silence,” Heaven hissed, and her husband shrank back toward the bar.

Nice
trick. If I had that kind of power over him, I probably would never let him out in public.

Heaven returned her attention to me. “You don’t know why they were there for her?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here to find out what you know,” I answered.

The door opened, near silent on well-oiled hinges, and Nate walked in. “We need to go. Now.”

“S’cuse me, but I seem to recall this is my—” I began.

“Everyone—we’re
all
leaving now,” he interrupted. Worry stretched across his face, in the depths of his serious blue eyes and the straight line of his lips. Mushy, kissable lips I’d first thought upon seeing his photo. Now I realized they were broody lips, more for frowning. Nate took a deep breath, raked one hand back through his hair. The action didn’t really seem to relax him, but some of his former, authoritative self returned. “Someone has wiped out four of the eight main covens on this continent, and my father’s entire house was just blown up.”

Okay, so that was cause for an interruption.

Heaven and I started to rise.

The windows that lined the far side of the room exploded.

A hail of machinegun bullets tore into the room, ripping over the furniture and into the walls, and smashing all the lights. We were left in darkness, save for the moonlight shining through the broken window and the angry, cracking fire.

I dropped to the floor, grabbed Heaven’s arm, and dragged her down with me. Across the room, several shots hit Jeffrey square in the chest, and he fell down dead. Heaven screamed and another round of gunfire followed. I shoved my hand over her mouth.

“Shut the hell up,” I whispered. Sure, her husband and only child died in one night, but all sentimentalities for dead bodies ever did was get people killed.

I looked under the loveseat to see Nate ducked in the doorframe.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

I nodded. I motioned for him and Heaven to stay down while I slowly sat up and leaned around the side of the couch.

I barely got a look at the lawn beyond the window when we were fired upon again. I ducked back down. There were seven people outside—that I counted—and that was just the back of the house. Heaven and the dearly departed Jeffrey had the lousiest security team ever.

Machineguns. Great. If there were seven people, I guessed maybe three or four had the actual automatic weapons; they’d take turn firing, keeping us locked down and giving the others time to line up shots. I’d played with plenty of guns and as flashy as machineguns were in the movies, they’d be shit for actually trying to kill us in these circumstances. Well, save for killing Jeffrey though, apparently.

I heard multiple pairs of feet moving across the lawn. They were coming closer, and we didn’t have much time. The minute we jumped up to run, we’d get hit.

There was no way Heaven could make it around the loveseat and to the door without them seeing and shooting her. I supposed it was time for me to be all heroic, which really sucked because I had outgrown that phase like two centuries earlier.

“When I tell you to, go straight for the door,” I whispered to Heaven. “Go as fast as you can while staying as low as possible. Understand?”

She nodded.

“So help me, if you freeze, I’m going to leave you here to die.”

She knew enough about me not to doubt I meant it, so she nodded again.

I got a good hold on the loveseat. “Go!” I hissed. I hoisted the sofa in the air and tossed it behind us. Sure enough, the gunmen started firing.

Heaven crawled across the floor and reached the doorway without being hit. I motioned for them to go, and mouthed the words, “Front of the house.”

Nate gestured for me to come with them, but I waved him off. I was immortal, after all—the least I could do was try to slow down the gunmen, considering they couldn’t really do any irreversible damage to me. Unless they aimed for my neck.

I tried not to think about that possibility.

Broken glass cracked as heavy feet cautiously walked over it. They were in the room now—perhaps ten feet away from me. I glanced through the small crack under the couch, which was now the only furniture between me and the several people with lots of not-so-fun weapons. Three were clumped together, while the other four were spreading out around the room. Soon they’d be coming at me from all sides. Great.

I placed my hands under the couch and hurled it at the clump of people. As it was sailing toward my target, I turned and dove for the open door.

Machinegun fire followed me—like they fucking expected me to jump up and shoot back—along with pops from a couple other semi-automatics. Two bullets managed to clip my shoulder and back before I ducked behind the wall. That made three bullets embedded in my body in less than a couple of hours, and I was in some of the worst pain I had experienced in at least fifteen years. I must say, the assassination business isn’t for everyone.

I scampered down the hallway and turned down the next corridor before another torrent of bullets could hit me. In the foyer I found Nate, Heaven, and six of the Thiering security team. One guy was bleeding on the floor, an ugly hole in his upper right chest. Mid-thirties, his face was pale, sweating; eyes open and staring at the ceiling; quick, shallow breaths passing between his open lips.

I’d drained a lot of blood from people—clearly this guy was losing his, fast. Probably a goner by the time we got out of there.

Nate leaned over him, bloody fingers pressed over the wound. Hair, damp with sweat, hung down in ropes and swung as he moved around the dying man, feeling his back. “Bullet went through.” A glance at a tall, forty-something woman in a security uniform—probably the boss. “You move him quick, keep pressure on the wound, and get him help.”

“He’s bleeding out,” I spoke up.

Nate glared at me, eyes growing smoky and dark; magic hung in the air, sending prickles up my spine and gooseflesh over my bare arms, like a storm about to hit. “He’ll make it.” He looked at the tough older broad again and she took over for him. “He’ll make it. Keep pressure.” Nate ran the back of his hand over his brow, wiping hair from his face, and met my eyes again; the magic was gone, and he was his usual self. “This is all that’s left of the guards and there’re about fifteen well-armed people out front.”