The Mark of the Vampire Queen (33 page)

“May I cut in?”

Jacob turned, his hand still clamped in his lady's grip, even as he kept his steadying arm about her waist. He found himself facing a vampire he'd not yet seen at the three-day Gathering. If he had, he was sure he would have remembered him.

He had several inches on Jacob in height. His skin had the smooth olive texture of the Middle East, and his eyes were piercing amber. Not brown, not gold, but a liquid amber so startling he doubted the man could have passed as mortal before color-altering contacts had been available. His hair was a burnished copper, long, bound back with ribbon to form a tail that fell just past his shoulder blades. He was dressed in a black, long-tailed coat much like Jacob's, only his shirt was white, his tie white silk and tied in a cravat style. A stick pin of a griffin done in amber and gold matched the setting for the ruby crest he wore on his left hand. Instead of slacks, he wore fitted black breeches and polished Hessian boots.

His presence was causing quite a stir, which Jacob saw with relief had distracted the assembly from his lady's unacceptable choice of dance partner.

Lyssa blinked at them both. Jacob tightened his fingers discreetly on her waist as a reassurance, waiting for her cue. But her mind was a whirl. Trying to get in tune with it, to grab a corner and slow it down, he was disorienting himself. He wasn't practiced enough at doing it yet, had only managed to get in sync with her once or twice, and that was with her cooperation.

An energy reached into him, steadying him, joining him in his Mistress's mind with effortless ease. Almost like the hand of a master painter guiding his apprentice on the canvas, it gave him the ability to circle around his lady's wildly spiraling thoughts, cushioning them from their erratic convulsions against the walls of her mind.

The only vampire who can stand toe to-toe-with her…who has as many secrets…

Jacob met Lord Mason's gaze. Somehow Mason knew what was happening here. He'd no doubt Thomas's hand was involved in that. Though he didn't have time to dissect the whys and hows, like how the hell Mason could get into his mind and Lyssa's, Jacob made the instant, gut decision to trust Mason as an ally. He was in over his head, and her life was far more important than his ego.

She needs to get out of here, soon.

“My lady?” Mason's gaze flickered in acknowledgment before he dismissed him with proper vampire indifference. Jacob turned her hand over to him, which had loosened its painful grip, even though she'd not stated her will in the matter. She was staring at Mason. Jacob could feel the wheels of her mind struggling, trying to right it with the help of the two of them.

Then, with a click, it happened. A hard tremor went through her body, so strong he felt it through his fingertips as he made himself slide them from her waist. He forced himself to step back and let Mason's hand take its place.

Lyssa blinked. Once. Twice.

“It would be my pleasure, Lord Mason,” she said at last.

Thank God. A shudder of relief passed through Jacob, almost as violent as hers.

“Just Mason will do, Lyssa. We know what a farce titles are.” He handed his cane to Jacob with a curt nod. “Shall your servant retire from the floor?”

“Yes.” She glanced at Jacob. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Vagabond. Await my pleasure with the other servants.”

Jacob gave a half bow and retreated. Though he wasn't tied into any other minds here, the shift of reaction in the room was as abrupt as her temper and far more reassuring. Appreciative laughter and amazed murmurs. It now appeared as if she'd dallied with her servant until Mason arrived, a fine bit of drama to amuse the other vampires. She'd actually duped them all into thinking she would choose a
human
…

“Just like Lady Lyssa…She knows how ridiculous it is, all this nonsense about female vampires and male servants…So clever, allowing Lord Mason to make such an impressive entrance…Fine entertainment…”

He should be relieved and pleased by the turn of events, the incredibly fortunate save. So why did he feel like Malachi had speared him through the chest with a javelin, after all? Why did he want to snarl at all of them as he left the floor?

When he moved past Devlin without stopping, the man gave him a look that fair screamed, “What the hell was that all about, then?”

One thing he'd learned from his lady was inscrutability. He gave Devlin the cane for safekeeping but kept going as if he were on an errand for his Mistress. He had a third mark. She could speak in his mind, after all.

As he reached the arched entrance to the ballroom, he turned to see Mason talking to her. There was a light smile on her lips. His lady appeared mysterious and in control, her usual impressive mien, but Jacob knew it would be fleeting. Like contractions coming too close together, only in this case her behavior heralded the delivery of death instead of life.

But for now her new partner had his face bent close as they danced. Her head was tilted back, their mouths tantalizingly close. Everyone was watching them. How the hell could anyone not look at them? They were perfect together. If she wasn't dying…Lord Mason was more than capable of protecting her. Loving her. Caring for her.

When he'd mailed correspondence for Thomas in the last month of the monk's life, Lord Mason's name had been on one of the letters. Though he hadn't known the contents then, Jacob now had the answer to an unanswered question. Thomas had known what fate awaited his lady, and made sure her strongest ally among the vampires would be present when she most needed him.

Regardless, leaving the ballroom, leaving her in the care of another man, was the hardest thing Jacob had done yet.

As he turned the corner into a wide corridor, he saw the hall was lined with heavy tapestries. They likely allowed quick trysts between lovers who had the unusual vampire quirk of preferring privacy. When he ducked behind one portraying a medieval scene of the Knights Templar, he found it thankfully unoccupied.

He'd just wanted a moment to collect his thoughts. He rethought the wisdom of that a bare second later when his body broke out in a cold sweat, his hands shaking.

He had to protect her, and yet in a blink she'd made it clear that if she lost control, there'd be little he could do to contain the most powerful vampire in the room, sick or no. Five minutes before Mason arrived, he'd been facing a situation he knew he didn't have the resources to address. He'd been counting too much on his lady being an active partner in her own protection. Debra had warned him the disease could progress rapidly once it hit a certain stage. His lady, who'd meticulously prepared for so much, had displayed a very human trait in avoiding preparations for the worst on her own condition. He was a fool. He should have planned better. He should have tried to convince her to cut her time here short.

But would it have changed anything? They had to make it to the Court session. He'd known that and had hoped, as he was sure she had, that she would make it. They'd had no choice but to keep going. They still had no other choice, racing against the clock and hedging their bets against death.

Several weeks before, she'd realized it took too much of the energy she needed to explain certain things to him. It was easier to let him ride along in her thoughts as she developed her plans and intentions. She just asked that he not interrupt her thinking or argue with her. She knew what she needed to do, and she needed his obedience to do it.

She'd told him everything he needed to know about the Gathering. He had a brain, and he would use it. If Mason hadn't come, they would have danced. She would have ripped his arms off for trying to get her off the floor and that would have been perfectly acceptable treatment of a servant. Equilibrium would have been restored.

He pressed his temple against the cold stone of the wall. When Carnal's face swam up in his mind, ironically it helped him shove the last of the panic attack away. No way that piece of shit was getting near her.

Tonight. They just had to get through tonight.

Then, God willing, he'd have time to get her home to die there.

Recalling again his nervousness before his first vampire fight, he remembered Gideon giving him a cuff on the ear, saying, “We're all going to die, bro. Either there's nothing after, in which case you won't exist to care about it, or Mom and Dad will be waiting. Mom'll say something like, ‘Now why did you do a fool thing like fight a bunch of vampires and get yourself killed?' And Dad will say, ‘At least you should have waited until you got laid by a pretty girl.'”

Well, he'd accomplished the latter. The privilege of being in his lady's body was more than any man could ever ask from Heaven or Earth.

Regardless of what happened, it was time to make the call they'd agreed Jacob should make to Mr. Ingram if things went downhill. Her actions tonight were the trigger. If they couldn't make it through the Court session, couldn't get the Council to pass the vote and then get back on the plane, then the only thing they could do to protect her people now would be done.

Tears burned at the back of his throat. Pulling the cell phone out of his coat pocket to start the clock on his own death seemed to occur in slow motion, as if his limbs moved through something far more resistant than air.

Since the tapestry currently protecting him depicted the Knights Templar, he obeyed a sudden compulsion from the memory of those warrior monks and dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
Dear Lord, I don't believe that her soul is damned. But I'll gladly go wherever she's going, if I'm worthy to follow. I'll know I'm in Hell only if I wake and find I'm somewhere she's not. Please help me do what I must do to protect her.

Calmer, he rose, pressed the button and listened to it ring through. Thank God Mason had included a cell tower in the palace's modern-day upgrades; otherwise there'd be no way for him to get a connection. When Ingram answered, Jacob said quietly, “Start the clock.”

A pause. “You got it, son. God bless you.” Another pause. “Both of you.”

Jacob nodded, unable to speak, and closed the phone.

If Ingram did not hear from them within the next twenty-four hours, he would make his own call. The one that would start the chain reaction to alert all of her fugitives and give them the information to find safe harbor in allied territories.

Jacob didn't know where his brother was now—hopefully somewhere out of trouble. But Ingram would also make sure Gideon received the letter Jacob had written to his brother before he left, saying the things he wanted to say.

Whatever awaited them after that, Jacob and Lyssa would deal with it together.

Hold on to my heart, Jacob. Keep it safe…

One night she'd teased him with her vampire speed, confusing him by moving the tools he'd been using to repair a fence from his left side to the right and then back again before he knew she was there. When he finally caught on, he looked up to see her sitting on top of the shed, her playful smirk touched by the gloss of moonlight. She'd shrieked indignantly when he went after her with the garden hose.

Then he remembered her peeling an orange in the darkness, eyes glowing green like a cat in the night. Smiling at him.

Whatever time we had, we used it well.

Nodding to himself, he stepped out from behind the curtain. And collided with Debra, moving at brisk clip toward the ballroom. The purposeful strides of a lab assistant, used to hurrying even when she should be walking at a pace more suited to the sequined, sleek evening dress and teetering heels she wore.

“Oh!” She yelped as he caught her arms, steadying her. When she smiled at him it was with an air of distracted excitement that fair pulsed off her skin. “Jacob. It's so good to see you.”

“And you.” As he studied her, he saw no self-consciousness in her face about their earlier exhibition. She was wholly absorbed in something else. “What's going on? You're wound up like a kid about to go to Disney for the first time. It can't be for this group.”

She giggled, startling him. Putting her hand up to her mouth, she shook her head. “I'm sorry, Jacob. It's just…Oh, my God, I can't believe…” She made a visible effort to rein herself in. “I can't really tell anyone yet. Of course, you're her servant, and Brian certainly wouldn't deny Lady Lyssa the knowledge, since he's meeting with Lord Belizar. I'm sure…Lyssa has taken such good care of my lord, made sure he had what he needed…”

His heart began to pump more rapidly. Jacob hardly dared to say it. While not normally able to read words from people's minds, it was resonating so strongly from her he couldn't miss it. “You've found the cure. To the Delilah virus.”

“Yes!” She said it in an ecstatic whisper, squeezed his arms and rocked up on her toes with ebullience. “Well”—she attempted to reclaim her objectivity—“we're ninety-nine percent sure we have. That's why Brian's been working so hard these last few days. Running and rerunning the data. We'd done a limited test on affected vampire cells, but seven of the test subjects responded to the model exactly the way we hoped. The model simulated the vampire-servant physical connection. The cure serum worked on a Canadian vampire, our first patient. There were some side effects because we haven't got the dosage percentage down yet. But it worked, Jacob.
It worked.
We got the call a little while ago from Alabama. The vampire is cured. And it's all thanks to Andrev and Helene. The servant-vampire connection was the key, just as Brian thought it was. How ironic is that? Oh, Brian is…I've never seen him so excited.”

Jacob's grip on both her arms drew her attention to the fact he wasn't smiling, his expression battle intense. “I need to speak with them. Brian and Lord Belizar. Is Lord Uthe with them?”

“Yes, I think so. He was headed that way a few moments ago. I think we should wait for them, because he thinks they'll make an announcement at the Ball after he talks to them…”