Vampire Assassin League Bundle 4 - Eternity (7 page)

Dev pushed his upper torso up, gaining more stability. Her legs gripped tighter to him. The couch creaked and groaned with every thrust he made. But it held. Supported. Anchored.

And then he felt it. The loss of command. The rigid restraint slipped. Perfection of experience and sensation blended into a flurry of basic need. And want. And primal power. His own body betrayed him. Devereaux couldn’t control the thrusting power of his own frame, dominating his will, manipulating his stamina. And she helped. Her cries coming one upon the other, while her loins pounded against him. Over and over. Again and again. Every thrust starting to gouge a chunk of plaster from the wall.

He couldn’t halt it. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t even modify it. All he could do was careen right over a precipice and into a pool of such wonder, he was sobbing. And shaking. And emptying. Heat and fulfillment shredded through centuries of nothingness. Accompanied by the longest, harshest groan he’d ever given. He’d never felt like this.

Ever.

He didn’t know what to do. What to say. How to act.

Devereaux’s cry ended with a harsh sobbed note; his body slowly stopped pulsing, and then he looked down. Into the beatific features of his mate. So beautiful. So loving. So amazing. She smiled up at him. And...

Oh no.

She had fangs.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“VAL Headquarters. Nigel speaking. How may I direct—? Oh. Hi D.C. Long time. Like... three days. How’s the weather down there in NOLA? Hot, steamy, and ‘ditch-the-clothing’ humid?”

“Hi Squirt,” Devereaux answered.

“Any sweet happenings? Man! You have the perfect un-life! Living in U.P.C. like that. I’m so stinkin’ jealous I could spit nails. If - of course - I ate them. Hey, I wonder...? Any chance you could talk to the old man for me? I mean wow. Think of the potential. U.P.C. and me. And I gotta tell you, Man. We’re missing a huge opportunity here. I really know how to par-tay. I could show them how it’s done.”

“Nigel.”

Devereaux recognized Akron’s voice and tone. Nigel just winked before replying.

“Yes Sir?”

“Who is it, please?”

“Oh. Just D.C. From NOLA. U.P.C. And dang! I’m jealous.”

“Since I don’t speak acronyms, you want to translate? Or do I need to cut down on your video gaming time again?”

“Oh. Yes, Sir. Ahem. D.C. is short for Devereaux Castillion. NOLA stands for New Orleans, Louisiana. Everyone should know that. And U.P.C.? That was my own creation, Sir. It stands for Undead Party Central.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“What? And ruin my mojo?”

“What era spawned you again?”

“Cross-over, Sir. I like to call it ‘late Hippy/early Disco’... although I tip more toward the 70’s. Loud shirts. Polyester clothing. Bell bottoms. Platform shoes. Boom boxes. Long hair. Down with the establishment. Keep on Trucking. Drive-in movies. Muscle cars that waste gas and heavily pollute... just about everything. Nice back seats - just made for free love. Hand-rolled weed. And who can forget 8-track tapes? You know. The
seventies
.”

“Ah yes. I remember. That explains quite a bit, actually.”

“So, how about it, Sir? Any chance I can go down to NOLA and—”

“You know, Nigel... most of our associates only call this line because they need something.”

“Oh. Right. Got it, Sir. Devereaux has called. I should find out what he wants.”

“You might want to notice that we don’t have much time left on this call before it’ll be disconnected, as well. Devereaux?”

“I’ll call right back.”

Dev hit the END CALL button; pitched the cell into the trash; picked up another cell from the drawer; pushed four numbers; got Nigel’s electric signature again.

“VAL Headquarters. Oh look. It’s Devereaux Castillion from New Orleans, Louisiana calling. Wait one moment while I transfer you to
His Highness
.”

“Nigel—” Akron’s voice interrupted.

Dev chuckled. He was still smiling when his screen bisected, giving him Nigel’s image on one side, and an empty-looking desk beneath an alcove on the other. That’s the only image anyone ever got of Akron.

“Hello, Devereaux. How can we help you? And where do you think you’re going, Nigel? Stay connected.”

“I have a problem,” Dev began.

“I did a bit of searching while you reconnected, Devereaux. Seems pretty tame from this prospective. How many incidents did you find, Nigel?”

“One hundred and two.”

“All vampire sightings?”

“You told me to look for anomalies featuring the undead. I didn’t eliminate the twenty-three zombie sightings, fourteen witches, assorted werewolves, the angel, and—”

“How many vampires?” Akron interrupted.

“Um... thirty seven.”

“Very good. Bring them up on the screen please. Good. Here’s the listing of incidents from last night in Undead Party Central. Five vampire sightings coming in from assorted area super markets. Four more on Chartres Street, two in Jackson Square, one loud one in Jean LaFitte’s Blacksmith Shoppe who thought he could karaoke. Bail denied, thankfully. He’ll ruin our image. There are fifteen sightings from above-ground cemeteries. No surprise there. Those places are hotbeds of vampiric activity. Always have been. Ten more sightings on Bourbon Street... and just look. Hmm. Here’s one about a vampire who supposedly crashed a sorority strip party and left a shirt, vest, and neck cloth behind – none of which has an identifying feature.”

“They actually filed a complaint?” Devereaux asked.

“Didn’t say that. The ladies appear to be posting photos of puncture marks, blood droplets, and the aforementioned clothing. It appears they’re setting up an online auction. Good thing you actually took my advice and left the sword at home.”

“I never said it was me,” Dev answered.

“Man. Just take the punishment, D.C. It’s easier in the long run. Trust me,” Nigel inserted.

Akron ignored the interruption. “What happened looks like a typical Friday night in New Orleans, so we also ran a little search on Beethan and company. Nigel?”

“Right. Fifteen hunters booked on International Flights to all sorts of destinations in the Far East. Bangladesh. India. Mostly Indochina. Cambodia. Thailand. Myanmar. No. Make that seventeen of them. Two more just got booked to Beijing. Looks like they’re setting up a Hunter Convention, Sir. I hope they don’t think they’re being sneaky. You want me to send an associate?”

“No need. I have a good idea what they’re up to. What I want you to find out is if anyone is heading to NOLA.”

“Not that I can see, Sir.”

“Did you check on their newest corporal, Lance Reed?”

“Who?”

 “This is your prior organization, Nigel. You really should keep up.”

“His prior what?” Dev asked.

“Nigel is a Beethan, Devereaux. Their leader, Chester? Well. He’s Nigel’s son. I know. Hard to believe.”

“Now wait just a minute, Sir. Just because my girlfriend went off the pill without telling me does not make me a father. It makes me an unauthorized sperm donor. And I wasn’t joining the Hunters anyway. That’s the fight that brought on my accident. And really. Manchester should’ve had that tree removed long before I ran into it.”

“I’m not blaming you, Nigel,” Akron replied. “And I’m rather glad you’re a terrible driver.”

“Sir?”

“I hope I don’t regret saying this, but I like having you about. Now, will you check on Reed?”

“Right. Lance Reed. What am I checking for?”

“Location. He’s their replacement for Von Holstaad. Top Hunter ranking. Specializes in taking out pairs. Sneaky bastard.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re right, Sir. I probably should keep up with that son of mine. Or... maybe I should just visit his mother. It would probably give her a heart attack. She’s near seventy. That might be fun.”

“Corporal Reed, Nigel?”

“Got him. Looks like he’s stationed in Po-Dunk, Wyoming, Sir.”

“Where?”

“All right. Fine. Take away all a guy’s punch lines. Make that Gillette... and checking. Wow. You’re good, Sir.”

“On his way to New Orleans, is he?”

“Flight just took off from Denver.”

“Well Devereaux, looks like you’re about to have company. We’ll send back-up.”

“That’s not why I called,” Dev replied.

There was a distinct pause. And then Akron spoke one word. It was elongated and extremely eerie sounding, as if a voice synthesizer was being used.

“Real...ly?”

“We’ve got a little over ten seconds left on this call,” Nigel remarked.

“I’ll call back,” Dev replied, and did the exact same maneuver as before. He ditched the used cell phone. Picked up another. This time when he called he got Akron and Nigel at the same time. And Akron started the conversation.

“Hello again, Devereaux. We did a more thorough search this time. Came up with a very interesting item. A film crew is apparently picking through U.P.C. looking for a location for a series featuring a vampire. Strangely enough, one of their members failed to use her key card to access her hotel room last night. She’ll probably be reported missing today. Nigel?”

“You called it U.P.C., Sir.”

Akron’s sigh had the same vibration and volume as his voice.

“Fine. Just the facts. Got it. Her name is Sydney Ross. She’s a film scout for—”

“I know who she is,” Dev replied. “That’s why I need help.”

“Let me guess. She’s your mate,” Akron said.

“Yes.”

“We’ll send human interference. Nigel, get Vaughn. Set him up with a fake wife. They’ll be replacements for when we lease Devereaux’s place to this company. And I want you to know I’m fully toying with sending you to Timbuktu, Devereaux.”

“Do you have an assignment a little closer?”

“As a matter-of-fact, yes. Belize. Is that close enough for you?”

“Perfect.”

“Nigel? Cell-jack Miss Ross’s connection and start texting everyone. Type something like she’s found the love of her life. Don’t call. She’s fine. She’ll be in touch.”

“That’s pretty lame, Sir.”

“Make something up, then. Use your imagination. Go brainstorm or something.”

“Her cell doesn’t have a signal, Sir.”

“I destroyed it,” Dev informed them.

“Good move. We can still find it. Nigel. Start looking for the last call.”

“Got it, Sir. To some guy named Stan. He’ll be first on my list. And then I’ll book travel for Devereaux and his honey. Dang. How do you handle this, Sir?”

“Handle what?”

“Having all these associates find their mates while we just exist. Alone and unmated. Bachelors for eternity.”

A heavy sigh echoed through the speakers. “It’s a very good thing I like you, Nigel. I handle it by ignoring it. Perhaps you’ll try that?”

“Good plan, Sir.”

“Anything else we should know, Devereaux, before we sign off?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“And it is—?”

“I turned her.”

“What?” The word came simultaneously from both Nigel and Akron. That made it extremely loud and annoying.

“She was a bit insatiable. And I... well... I. It’s been a long time. I lost control.”

Silence greeted him. It lasted two seconds. And then Nigel spoke.

“You’re absolutely right, Sir. Ignorance is best. I guess this means I need to arrange night travel to Belize. For two. On it.”

“Just stay hidden, Devereaux. And keep her out of sight as well. We’ll be in touch with particulars.”

And with that, the screen went black.

CHAPTER NINE

Sydney didn’t awaken. Her eyes popped open and she sat up, instantly bombarded with sensory overload. Sound. Sight. Touch. Taste. Smell. Hearing was first, however. All sorts of sounds filled the space, blending into a rush of noise that begged ear plugs. She had to consciously mute it. Sydney was good at that, though. It was a learned skill. There wasn’t any other way to get things done at the studio with hundreds of people about and a job to do.

Next came sight. Something was peculiar with her vision, too. Although the room was dim, she could make out everything in perfect clarity: wallpaper from some prior century. Furnishings to match. Glass globes dotted the wall at regular intervals. She was atop a smallish canopied bed. And she didn’t even need her glasses.

As for her tactile senses! Wow. Sheets of an incredible count caressed her bare skin. The comforter was hand-loomed out of tiny strips of linen. It was meant to be light and airy; a barely-there coverlet. Yet she could feel every inch of its weight. Even the air had scent and texture to it. She moved an arm and actually experienced the resistance. The musty smell. The warmth. Humidity. Slickness.

All of this was bizarre, and then even that got trumped. Sydney concentrated on her own body. She’d never felt better. Ever. She hummed with energy. Glowed with vigor. Vibrated with a sense of wellbeing she couldn’t ever remember experiencing.

“Hello Love.”

Sydney’s head turned, her eyes instantly finding the speaker, that way-over-the-top gorgeous vampire guy. Devereaux Castillion. Dev. Her body pulsed in place as their gazes connected. Oh my. He’d dressed differently, but even in faded denims and a navy-colored t-shirt that molded about pectoral muscles doing nothing to disguise well-toned shoulders and arms, Devereaux was impressive. The man was pure visual eye-candy. He wasn’t just good to look at, either. He was an incredible lover. Everything those dark eyes promised, they delivered. More than once. And longer each time. And she really didn’t need to remember that. Not right now, anyway.

Sydney narrowed her eyes as he neared, although nothing on his lower body moved. No steps were being taken. No stride used. Was he... gliding? She’d have glanced down to check, but couldn’t seem to move her eyes. She wet her lips with her tongue before running it over her teeth; checking, even if it was foolish. Nope. Nothing out of place. Nothing sharp. Elongated. Pointed. Just teeth.
Oh brother
. She was becoming as delusional as Devereaux.

“Where... am I?”

Now, that was another bit of weirdness. Her voice sounded sultry and warm, even to her own ears. It carried a sensual timbre she’d never noted before. If she’d possessed this voice earlier, she’d have been a shoo-in for radio. Maybe she should change her field.