The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Daniel: Book: 3 (3 page)

He had six daughters he'd never met.

Again the ache in his heart made him take a careful breath.

"What calamity has occurred?" she asked him,
getting straight to the point.

It was so like her not to tip-toe around an issue.

He didn't respond.

His need for her was a vicious thing and his vampyre took
over and rose.

Instead of being alarmed, Sorcha shook her head.

"I cannot come to you, my love. But you may enter the Entrée
to me."

He heard the need in her voice, saw it in those dark eyes.

At her feet, the lioness bared her teeth, then rose and
walked away.

"She hates me," he said.

Sorcha slowly shook her head.

"She hates living without a mate. It is an unnatural life
for a cat."

It was an unnatural life for them, too.

"If I come to you I may never leave," he said. The
truth burning in his eyes, in his throat.

"You cannot leave our sons defenceless. I can sense
your unease, your anxiety. What has happened?"

Duncan placed a hand each side of the wooden frame at the
edge of an Entrée to another reality and fought a war of attrition with
temptation. But he knew he could never leave this world, his sons, undefended.

Duty came before all things, even love.

"Portals are leaking dark magic into this world."

She took a step back, her eyes wide.

"The creature has escaped?" Her eyes narrowed.
"But how can this be?"

"Something or someone has released him. Eleanor
Pattullo has betrayed her family, her kind and turned to dark magic. She has
attacked the mates of Marcus and James. A soul-eater has destroyed part of
Ezekiel's Legion. The disease called Ebola, hemorrhagic and viral, is airborne
and spreading across the Earth; cities will fall. Constantine is working to
find a cure, a vaccine. However, I believe he will be too late. Millions will
die."

Her fingertips went to her mouth as her eyes went wide and
glassy with shock.

"And so the prophesy begins."

He nodded.

He could only agree.

"Aye.
Magic will return to the human realm of Earth.
And Earth will burn as the ground shakes and mankind will perish under the
combined fists of pestilence and disease. And magic will rule the land.
"

Sorcha paced back and forth in front of the portal, her
agitation clear.

Oh, how much he wanted to step through, to take her in his
arms, to hold her and kiss the breath from her.

She stopped, her head tilted as if listening, and he
wondered who, or what, she was communicating with. His wife was an Untouchable.
A warrior witch with a magical ability so powerful she was banned, along with
others of her kind, from the natural world. And that included their six
daughters who had inherited their mother's craft. Their sons had been born
vampyre. Splitting their family had in many ways broken Duncan and Sorcha, but
what choice had they?

"Do you have two women ruling the land in Britannia?"

He blinked, then shook his head.

"No, but a woman is head of the government in Scotia
and Queen Eliza is still monarch."

"Then
Coinneach
Odhar's
vision has come
to pass," she whispered with something like horror.

Duncan frowned.
The visions of the
Brahan Seer
of Scotland had slipped into the stuff of
legend. "Of which vision do you speak?"

She blinked as
she came back to herself. "
'When two women rule the land the rivers
will run with blood.'
" She paused. "Ebola is hemorrhagic, which
means blood will leak from the bodies of the dead into the rivers. I had thought
that prediction one of war." She looked at him, her eyes wide. "And
is the earth shaking?"

He nodded.

"
Aye
.
Ezekiel believes the tectonic plates are moving from north to south."

Her mouth
curved. "And how is the boy?"

"Ezekiel
is nae much of a boy these days. He's huge and his magic is increasing."

"Yes."
She nodded her head. "That is only to be expected when dark magic enters
the natural realm of Earth. White magic will rise to match the power of it."

Then she
stopped dead and looked at him. "If this continues, nothing can stop me
entering your world to render my assistance."

He'd thought of
that, which was why he was standing right here talking to her. But there was
another point he wanted to raise. "Or my daughters, too."

She blinked,
thought about it, and then her eyes met his.

"Yes. But
not yet. They are not ready. Azalea needs discipline and focus. But if magic
does arrive in your reality, I am thinking of the Sorbonne for her."

"Paris? If
the city recovers from a plague of biblical proportions."

Her eyes blazed
into his.

He saw the
power and determination of a lethal will and immediately felt better.

"Humans
are resilient creatures, Duncan. They will not only survive they will become
stronger. Methinks The Maker may have underestimated that resilience. However,
you do realize he will have more minions than simply Eleanor assist him?"

"
Aye
."
The word was a heavy sigh that made her mouth, her eyes, soften as she watched
him with a hunger that matched his own.

"Look to
the Order," she said now.

He blinked.

He knew Sorcha
had an axe to grind against the religious zealots of the vampyre nation. After all,
it was because of them, he and his wife were separated and existing in two
different worlds.

"The Order
are firmly against magic and everything it stands for. I cannae imagine them in
league with a monster."

"The Order
are the epitome of pure evil. Like is attracted to like." Her eyes
narrowed. "And why the vampyre council have not dealt with them before now
is something I will never, ever, understand."

"
Aye
.
And just to add more bad news, James's wife Charlotte is a witch."

Sorcha stopped
dead, her skin turning so pale and translucent he thought she was going to pass
out.

"The Order
will never, ever, let her live, Duncan. You must send her to me at once."

He shook his
head.

"She is
with child. James would never recover from her loss. Plus, she belongs in this
world and she is also vampyre."

"Yes, but
she will need training."

"She has
Ezekiel."

Sorcha sent him
a sly little smile.

"So, you
have buried the hatchet with magic and are working with a white witch?"

"We needed
his help and he was nearly killed in the bid to save Charlotte and James. As a
family we owe him much."

Her response
was to simply stare at him, her dark eyes steady and warm.

Theirs was a
love that transcended time and space and realities.

He felt it now
as his eyes held hers.

She blinked and
broke the moment.

"What
about Marcus's wife?"

"She's an
empath, just like Daniel."

"And a
fully emerged vampyre?"

"
Aye
."

She moved
closer, reached out a hand as if to touch him.

"Can you
not see what is happening right in front of you?"

Actually, he
could, and that was why he needed her wise council. "Our sons are mating
with women the world needs as fighters to protect Earth."

Her hand
dropped very slowly to her side. "Ying and Yang. Dear God, Duncan. The
Earth is preparing. A magical war is coming."

"Darlin’,
the war
has
arrived."

How the hell had she ended up here?

Two minutes to midnight and the tinkle of glasses, the low
murmur of voices sounded too loud in Gia’s ears. Palms damp, her stomach in
knots, stage-fright nearly made her knees buckle. Whoever said phobias were
overcome the more you confronted them was a big fat liar.

Smoking tobacco in public venues was banned in New York
City, but someone had forgotten to tell the management of the exclusive Sly Fox
club, since taking a single breath was like inhaling one hundred per cent pure
nicotine. However, since the Ebola outbreak began gathering pace across the
globe people were flouting the smoking ban. Governments, police and the
establishment had bigger things to worry about.

The skinny stage was unlit and the piano player tickled the
keys as a jazz guitar strummed. A gaunt drummer clicked his sticks together in
a countdown beat.

Tall and wand slim in a sheath of gold leather that could
have been sprayed on, Gia Della Russo hit centre stage as the spotlight struck
her.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and belted out the
first bars of Adele’s big hit about fire and rain. Unaware of the stunned
silence or the way heads jerked up in shock.

She didn’t see mouths drop open and nor was she conscious
that her voice had punched every gut with a power and an emotional intensity
that made women’s eyes sting and every dick ache.

Three
hours later Gia counted two thousand dollars in hundreds and fifties, folding
the money before tucking it inside a strapless bra that fully delivered on the
promise to lift and separate.

Thank God she’d agreed to take a percentage of the nights
take rather than a flat fee of a few hundred dollars. After six nights the word
had spread that the Sly Fox had a new singer with a heart-breaking voice like
honeyed spoonfuls of soul. But no one would ever know what it cost her each and
every night she stood before the punters, alone and too vulnerable as she sang
her heart out.

Dragging a grey hoodie over her dress, Gia kicked off the
gold four inch heels and thrust her bare feet into tatty running shoes. She
didn’t look in the mirror since she couldn’t cope with seeing the total
stranger reflected there, reminding her of just how far she’d fallen. Sheer
willpower alone kept the desperate wedge of tears in her throat from stinging
her eyes.

She’d come a long way from her Irish and Latin roots singing
in the church choir of St. Columbus, a good catholic girl who’d never put a
foot wrong.

Until, as an adult, she'd made a big mistake.

A mistake that had taught her to avoid good-looking
charmers. Like everyone else hard lessons learned in the past were to be
avoided in the present. A lesson that had directly influenced her choice of
remaining celibate today. Liam’s honest blue eyes had conned her, her
grandparents, and even their priest. Liam Del Russo had been quick with a joke
and generous with his time and attention. He’d never talked about his kinsfolk
other than to complain that they’d had plans for him to join the family firm.
But he’d needed freedom to be his own man, he’d told her, to find his own road
in life. His choice of career was something vague and far into the future.

Naïve and starved of affection, Gia had sucked up every
smooth word dripping from a clever tongue. Believed every slickly delivered
line. He’d dazzled her with his charm, told her she was gorgeous, told her she
was beautiful. The number of times he’d lost or forgotten his credit cards she'd
been so dazzled by that little boy smile, she’d hardly noticed. And when in a fevered
excitement she’d handed him her innocence, he gave her the impression of being
deeply, even madly, in love with her. But she would never, ever, forgive
herself for not seeing through the son-of-a-bitch.

When he’d popped the question, she’d agreed, happy to keep
house for him and keep his bed warm. She’d married a man with an engaging
personality, with a pretty face and a crafty tongue. He'd turned out to be a
human being who was liar and a thief and liked to use his fists and worse on
his wife.

When he’d lifted his hand to her that first time she’d truly
believed she deserved it for disappointing him. By this time he’d chip, chip,
chipped away at her confidence, her self-esteem. Instead of love, the icy
clutch of dread had taken up residence low in her belly. Of course, he’d made
sure not to mark her face or anywhere the bruises might show.

Throughout it all she’d been employed by Gillespie, Pattullo
and Hindmarch, working hard as the personal assistant to top corporate lawyer
Daniel Gillespie. The long hours Daniel demanded were rewarded accordingly,
while Liam chased after his own interests, which included other women, as he
spurned employment. Good job the bastard was dead or she’d have killed him
herself for the pain and misery he’d brought to the people she loved more than
anything in this world or the next.

So here she was homeless, moonlighting by singing in a smoky
club, dressed like a slut and fighting off over-stimulated members of the
opposite sex each and every night.

Weary to the bone, Gia hoiked up her backpack and shouldered
open the side door to the alley. Shivering, her breath smoked in the cold air
of a New York February. The sidewalk glistened wet and dank.

"Hey, babe. How many times have I told you not to use
this exit?"

The deep rumbling voice with the musical tones of the Caribbean
made Gia grin up into the big moon face of Jesus Rutherford, doorman and
unofficial bodyguard who’d taken her under his wing.

"I’m taking a taxi, Jesus."

"You killed them tonight, honey."

Gia gave a jerky shrug of a thin shoulder, gathering up
heavy hair the color of dark copper into a high ponytail. She secured it with a
hair tie.

"It’s not a big deal," she said her voice no more
than a whisper.

Built like a sumo wrestler, Jesus shook his head. A hand the
size of a dinner plate reached out and gave a gentle tug of her ponytail.

"I’ve no idea what sort of trouble you’re in, Gia. But
two of Donatti’s goons were asking questions about you yesterday and tonight.
Don’t nobody wanna be on that bastard’s radar."

Unfortunately for Gia she was more than on Enricho Donatti's
radar.

The constant anxiety that had taken up residence in her gut
for six long months morphed into a rock of solid ice. It had taken her weeks to
find this gig. She wouldn’t be terrorized into moving on again.

Perhaps the time had come to make a stand?

Yeah right.

Who was she kidding?

Liam had betrayed an organized crime boss for God’s sake,
stolen drugs and cash, and they wanted payback.

She’d sold her house and was paying them every week, but it
didn’t matter, they always wanted more. And she knew they wouldn’t be satisfied
until she was under their total control. Especially the control of Enricho
Donatti, who’d taken one look at her at Liam’s funeral and made it crystal
clear he wanted her, all of her.

Enricho wasn’t the clichéd corpulent Mafia Don either. He
looked like a handsome advertisement for one of the Wall Street types with a
wide mouth that had a ready smile and a polished manner.

But it was his eyes that terrified her.

They were dead, cold, and forcibly reminded her of a reptile
she'd once seen at the zoo.

Under his handsome good looks, she knew the man was a
monster.

Revulsion crawled up Gia’s spine along with a dark despair.

What was it about her that attracted control freaks? Did she
have
Please treat me like shit
tattooed on her forehead?

Donatti's text messages, the voicemails, the invites to
breakfast, to lunch, to dinner, were becoming more and more insistent. His
attentions were a dripping tap of unrelenting harassment.

The boxed white rose, which arrived every single day, was
seriously freaking her out.

She knew she was becoming desperate now and desperate people
did desperate things.

Appallingly, sly whispers of ending it all had enter her
mind.

If it hadn’t been for her grandparents, and her church,
she’d have made the ultimate sacrifice long ago.

And she knew that if Enricho Donatti laid a manicured finger
on her she would do it in a heartbeat even if it meant an eternity burning in a
fiery hell.

Dark eyes glued to her face, Jesus heaved out a sigh when
she kept quiet.

"I’ve organized my brother Jerry to take you home every
night. No, don’t argue. Just call it payback for the pleasure you give me
listening to the voice of an angel."

The small act of kindness had Gia blinking rapidly.

Swimming eyes riveted on her sneakers, she scuffed her toe
on the sidewalk.

"Thanks."

A yellow cab slid into the alley and a man with his
brother’s genetic footprint and even bigger than Jesus hauled himself out of
the driver’s door.

"Yo bro, is this the babe?"

"Yep. You make sure she gets home in one piece."

Gia slid into the back of the cab and Jesus closed the door.

Jerry turned to her with a smile bright enough to be seen
from the space station orbiting the earth.

"Where to?"

In spite of her worries Gia found she couldn’t help but grin
back.

"GPH Towers."

Black brows winged up his forehead as he blew out a low
whistle.

"You live in the financial district?"

Her bland stare had him shrug, nod, and the car swung out of
the alley.

At this time of night the streets were quiet.

Gia stared unseeing out of the window and wondered how the
hell she was going to get out of the big deep hole her late husband had dug for
her.